Healing a Broken Heart
by Liiania
Summary: The night the Opera Populaire burned down, a little girl met the Phantom face to face and loved him no matter his looks. 18 years later, they reunite and travel with each other to live their lives as one. ErikXOC COMPLETE
1. Preface

**Author's Note: I know, I know! I'm a terrible person! I'm in the middle of three stories and here is my fourth! Well, I would like to say that I LOVE Phantom of the Opera and Gerard Butler, especially. I see him as the only perfect Phantom. Alright, I would love it if you reviewed and commented on this story, it would mean the world to me. Thanks, ya'll!**

**Disclaimer: **Blah blah blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... blah blah blah...

**Preface**

Isn't it sad to see a twenty-six year old woman sitting in a gorgeous black coat that completely consumes her body as she consumes a nice liter of absinthe she stole from a bar? Oh, and the hair has to be perfect: so black it looked as if she had feathers of a raven as hair. The make up, of course, must be neatly done amongst the icy blue eyes, a thick black line on the top lid and mascara slathered on it looked fake. Lipstick must be smeared a tad just to show how much she drank and doesn't care to check. Dress should be a tight corset of black lace and fabric with the laces in the front that led down to an amazing black skirt that flowed beneath her feet, which in case were completely bare and almost purple looking.

Yes, this woman sitting drunk and close to hallucinations, was me. Me, Nathalie Lydie André, the worst name my mother could have ever thought of. The last child left to that bitch and her seventh husband. All of my six brothers and sisters, killed in some "freak police misunderstanding". I was young, only sixteen when they were killed and thankfully at a friend's home, working on our song we were composing together. I had always wondered where all the other six husbands went. No more than two years had gone by when another would show up, much more richer than the other.

Yet, here I sit, drinking my life away, hoping to give up all I had worked for and every wanted to achieve. All I had ever wanted to do was to sing and become famous and rich and, oh God, I'm going to throw up.

I leaned to my right, or as much as I could in this tight corset holding my waist together, and hurled all the green liquor out of my system. The steam from it wafted in the freezing air, creating some heat for my feet. I turned and let the heat return my feet to some point of feeling, where they had gone numb in the hours I sat out on the sidewalk in the foot of snow on the cobblestone streets.

My body shivered and I grabbed the bottle and placed it against my lips, relishing in the sweet and potent liquor sliding down my throat with ease. I gasped as I emptied the bottle of it's contents and began the process of standing up. I knew this wasn't going to end well, but if it did happen to be successful, I wouldn't be standing for a long time.

I grabbed the edge of the sidewalk, pulling on it and turning my now frozen feet around and pushing against the walkway. I held myself up with the tips of my fingers and the tips of my toes, trying to push off with one finger, but falling back to the others once more. My hair had now fallen into my face, distracting me and as I went to sweep the silky hair from my face, my right hand didn't have the strength to hold me and let me go. I tipped over, waiting for the hard stone to collide with my cold body.

But, it didn't happen but, ended up in the arms of someone strong, someone impressive because I apparently gave a purr as if I wanted to bed them. I wrapped my hands around a hooded head and tried looking into the eyes of my savior. They were hidden by the darkness of the hood he wore and all I felt was a hard chest raising my body up and down along with his breaths. I could have sworn I heard him say something, but, I don't know what it could have been. I fell asleep immediately once secured in his powerful arms.

"I have you, do not fear, I am the Phantom, shed no tears," he whispered into my ear, leaving an almost harmonized tone sifting itself through my mind as I slept, feeling the bounce of footsteps and the sound of his shoes hitting the cobblestones.

…

I awoke to the sound of a piano, soft as if it were muted. I tried sitting up but, my head turned against me and I dropped back to the satin sheets of the bed. I looked around me; candles, many of them around the room. Didn't this person know that having so many candles could be a fire hazard? Nope, probably not. I looked at the sheets I lay in, the red velvet and satin creating a completely mesmerizing feel against my fingers. They looked imported but, the stitching wasn't of some Eastern country but, of someone who knew what they were doing?

I pushed myself up on my elbow and rubbed my face, running my fingers through my raven hair, allowing it to settle back down to it's original position. I looked behind me and saw a wall with huge curtains accenting the none windows that were there but, stone walls with some of the stones protruding from the smooth wall but, nothing too deadly looking.

A long black laced curtain hung around the bed I lay on and a rope with gorgeous thread spun through it was the pulley to raise them. I rolled over to the other side of the bed and reached for the rope, hitting the frills with my fingertips. Finally, I grabbed the damn thing and pulled it, using it also as a support to help me stand. With my hands clutched to the rope, the curtain began to rise and gave way to an amazing underground lair, one filled with a hundred candles on beautiful golden stands and a grand organ placed in between the stone and more candles. A lake was the center point of this den and it made it seem so beautiful. Sheets of music were strewn across the organ, scribbled on with ink and looked as if it had been crumpled and then smoothed back out. I had walked slowly towards the sheet music and held it in my hands, admiring the notes that were completely crazy in it's complexity.

I placed the papers back down on the organ and walked over to the lake that had a light coating of fog on top, making it seem eerie.

"I got to get out of here," I whispered, turning to a door slightly hidden by a curtain. I turned the knob and pushed the door, feeling the rush of cold winter night air hitting my face like a train coming at full speed to a tiny deer on the tracks. I was pushed back a bit, my hands now blocking the snow and wind from my face as I began my ascent up the stairs that led to a back alley where it was hidden safely from prying eyes.

I sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep my lungs strong but, this bitter wind was tearing me up. I didn't want to have to go back down to that underground room but, it looked as if I had no choice. I walked back down the stairs and braced myself against the door from the inside now, trying to close it with all the strength I had in my hungover state.

A black leather gloved hand placed itself above my head and pushed the door close and the other hand turned the bolt that was next to my shoulder. I followed the arms to a man standing behind me, his body now towering above my own and I pressed my back against the door, sinking as I looked into the light green eyes of the man looking down at me. Half of his face was covered with a white mask that extended from the right side of his forehead down to right above his lips, and were they some amazing lips. They were plump and so inviting, but it was parted and showing the pure white teeth that were so beautiful. I looked from his lips to his hair; so black and slicked back to the collar of his black tuxedo coat. His skin was tan and his eyes were piercing through to my half-sober heart.

"Do I frighten you, child? Does my face scare you?" He hissed, bringing his face closer to mine. His breath was grazing my face with ease and truthfully, no, his face doesn't scare me but, the look on it does.

I shook my head 'no' and watched as his brow was brought down, the right one hidden. An anger came over his face and I watched as his gloved hands grabbed my shoulders and brought me to his body then slamming me back.

I screamed, the force of the push and the still drunken state I was in didn't mix well. I knew I was going to throw up and unfortunately, his face was to be the victim. I brought my hand up to my mouth and cupped the vomit as best as I could. My knees shook and I fell, his hands still on me and I watched as he sank down to the floor with me. His face lost its anger and his hand came up to my face, cradling it with the softest touch I had ever felt a man give me before.

The vomit seeped down the black lace corset and skirt and stained my fingers with it's horrid smell. I watched his reaction as he wiped something from my cheeks. He rubbed his hand on his pants but, nothing showed up. I blinked and realized the blurry vision wasn't the leftover alcohol but, tears that were streaming from my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, dropping my hands down and laying my forehead against his shoulder. It felt so comforting and I didn't want to move.

But, the sudden jerk of a hand on my throat took me away from the serenity. He pressed my throat against the wooden door and gave a hard stare as he looked at my face. His eyes were hard and freaking the absolute wits out of me. I brought my hands up to his wrist and tried pulling away, but to no avail.

"You are not afraid?" He asked, his voice so melodic.

"N-No..." I squeaked out, now feeling the grip tighten around the flesh. I choked and tried gasping for air, shaking my head as I tried kicking my bare feet to his body.

"Then why do you squirm like a bug?" He hissed, watching me intently.

I felt the blood in my head swim and my vision begin to blacken. "Because I cannot breathe!" I shouted at him, my voice sounding like the steam from a tea pot over a pit of fire.

He released and I fell over to my side, holding my neck and massaging the tender flesh gently. I coughed up a few drops of blood and it fell to the floor unnoticed by him.

"You shall remember me, I will promise you that." He said, standing up and retrieving a towel and throwing it to me.

I caught it and began wiping the vomit from my face and hands and scrubbing, what I could, off of my dress. I lay the towel down next to me and began to stand, looking for the man. He was gone and I realized that it was my chance to escape. I used the door for support and unlocked the huge lock on the wooden door and braced myself for the cold winter's air.


	2. Chapter One: Remember Me

**Author's Note: Okay, Chapter One! Woo! Now, let's get those reviews in! Good or bad, love it or hate it, tell me. I want to know how I can change it all up and make it better. Thanks again guys. =)**

**Disclaimer: **Blah blah blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... blah blah blah...

**Chapter One: Remember Me**

"Nathalie, wake up, you bum! Sing your lines!" An old man's voice shouted at me.

I sighed and leaned against a barrel that was a prop for my scene. I rolled my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, something I did often.

"What if I don't want to sing them? Hmm? What if I want to dance and throw this at your face?" I shouted at him, pushing myself off the barrel and kicking it away from me.

All of the other actors and actresses were standing around backstage, watching as I threw another one of my temper tantrums. I had on a black cashmere sweater with long sleeves that I was now chewing on whenever I was nervous.

"If you refuse, I will make sure you never act in Paris ever again! Now, sing!" He shouted at me, his face becoming beat red with frustration. Even though he sat in the darkness of the audience, I could see the man about to explode.

I stood up straight, threw the packet of paper on the floor and placed my hands on my hips.

"_The hills are alive, with the sound of music_

_With songs they have sung, for a thousand years!_"

I finished, my voice a perfect alto pitch but, the director shaking his head.

"No! I want Soprano! Not Alto! Higher!" He screamed, grabbing his hair and shouting in french.

"You know what, I don't sing Soprano, never have, never will! Get Maryse to do it!" I shouted, throwing my hand toward her as she stared at me with hard eyes.

"Yes, monsieur, I will sing the part. At least I _can_ sing it." She spat out, glaring at me.

I looked away and stalked off stage, turning to the exit.

"If you leave, I will never let you back!" The director shouted, his brown eyes narrowed to slits.

I pushed the door open and walked out into the night, the wind as dead as the street I was walking down. I had no idea why that madman decided to make us practice at two in the morning, it was unbelievable.

My ballet slippers crunched in the blanket of snow as I walked down the deserted street. I held my shoulders as I watched my breath as I continued walking. It had been almost a week since that random dream I had with the masked man, but it felt so real. When I had gotten to my flat, I had finger marks on my neck. I just assumed I drank too much and did it to myself, so I blew off the bruises. But, it had felt so real. Those eyes that had burned a hole into my soul and that handsome face that made me blush and get butterflies in the very pit of my stomach.

Even though having quit probably the biggest play of my life, I don't understand why I did it. My heart was breaking as I realized I should just die and quit right here and now.

I threw my hands up in the air and shouted. My throat was producing an eerie yell, something like a song. I dropped my hands and ceased the weird noise.

"_If I die young, bury me in satin_

_Lay me down on a, bed of roses_

_Sink me in the river, at dawn_

_Send me away with the words of a love song_"

I sang, my heart aching to continue.

"Sing..." A whisper sounded out through the alley way I had just walked into.

I froze, my heart stopping and rising in my throat. I looked around, looking for the intruder of my song. My eyes wondered up to a rooftop where I saw a gargoyle sit.

"No." I said, continuing my walk just a tad faster than I would normally do.

I still watched the gargoyle and as I began my run, a cap waved to me in the end, and the body of a man began to rise. The moonlight, bright in all of it's glory, displayed on this man like he was so regal. A pure white mask, graced the right side of his face and the light glistened off the slick black hair. He looked down at me and my hands traveled up to my throat.

I spun around and ran back the way I came, back down the alley to any life still awake at this hour. My breaths were becoming short as I heard another pair of footsteps running after mine. I looked back and saw the cape wildly flailing in the wind as he ran behind me, a good twenty feet separated us.

I felt like life ended when my shoe caught on my black skirt and as I watched the snow-covered ground get closer, I braced myself for death in mere minutes. My hands brought themselves up immediately to my face, my knees hitting first and the cold snow now burying itself in the heat of my face. I heard my scream as I feel, as if I were not in my body. I lay there, my face still in my hands. I tried to push myself up, my palms hurting and cut from the tiny rocks that were hidden beneath the snow.

"You think you can run from me?" He said, his voice bouncing off the brick walls in the alley.

I rolled over and saw the face of death. So cold, lifeless as he stared at me. Tears started streaming from my eyes. "Who are you?" I asked between the short breaths trying to settle me down.

"I am the one who will bring you to your knees. I am the Angel of Music." He said, walking up to me with his legs on either side of my stomach. His fierce green eyes burning me.

"Angel of Music? What are you, a poet for little children?" I spat out.

He dropped onto me, his cape covering the both of us as he grabbed my wrists and pulled them over my head, his lips a few inches from mine. The hot breath he gave was so soothing, so inviting.

"I've been watching you, your voice. You are the one that I need," he brought his lips so they were guiding themselves across my cheek. "the one I need, your voice..." he whispered, kissing my lips.

I tried to scream now, turning and trying to kick my legs until I felt a pill being pushed into my mouth. My eyes opened wide, the pill was dissolving and my vision was turning black. I tried pushing it out, trying to spit it back into his. His hand left my wrist as his other hand grabbed it and held them both. His free hand grabbed my face, pressing my cheeks together to my mouth. I felt the last bit of pill dissolve, the flavor tasting like a piece of old shoe.

"Don't fight it, you're mine," he said, releasing me and standing up, watching me.

I rolled over and coughed. I stuck my finger down my throat and tried to throw up, my body only producing dry heaves. I knew I should have drank something or ate before I went to rehearsal. I grunted, tossing my arm to the side and stood up, feeling light headed and nauseous. I stumbled over to one of the brick buildings and leaned against it, feeling my legs giving up.

I looked at him, my eyelids dropping down but, I kept them open as best as I could. My breathing was becoming wheezes, as I pressed my shoulder against the wall. I stared at his body as he walked closer to me, his steps even as he touched my face with his gloved hand. It wasn't cold like I thought it would be, but a warm touch that made me groan under it's touch.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I wheezed out, looking at him.

"You, you have seen my face and you shall not escape." He stated, taking his hand away from my face.

"I've never seen your face," I said, now sinking to the cold snow once more, much more gently this time.

"You've seen me, been where no one else has. I shall make you pay," he said as my eyes closed and I felt my body rise.

…

_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_

I awoke to singing and realized I was in the same bed as before, but now, my hand was chained to a post on the wall behind the bed. I yanked at it and pulled with all of my might, stronger from when I was here last. I remembered exactly where that door was to get out into the street above but, this band on my wrist was beginning to dig into my porcelain skin and I get feel if I pulled hard once more, I might rip the flesh.

"I see you're awake now, mademoiselle."

"Don't call me that. Why am I chained here like a prisoner? I have done nothing wrong to you! I don't even know you!" I shouted at him, my throat sore. I used my free hand to rub my throat, trying to soothe it as much as I could.

He didn't respond, he was sitting at a desk with a quill in his hand and the sound of scratching could be heard.

"Hey! Answer me!" I shouted again, much louder and higher pitched than what I had intended.

He spun around, his glare now at me. He stood up and walked towards me, his coat and jacket off, leaving him only in his white dress shirt with the top and second button opened. His hair was still as slick as it was when we were in the alley; so black, so alike in mine. He ended up next to me, his face looking down at mine.

"I'll make you great, much better than those fools you work with at all hours of the night. You have a voice, waiting to be released; and I shall be the one to help you." His voice, so velvet in it's pitch, it was hard to keep being upset.

"And what if I do not want your help?" I spat out angrily, barring my teeth at him.

"Then, you'll die." His threat actually frightened me.

"As if I'm afraid. You see me? I've had the worst life you could ever imagine! You saved me that night a week ago when I was trying to rid the world of me! Who wants someone who can't even hold a high note five seconds? I cannot work for I have no education. I lost all of my friends due to the fact that they thought I was a paramour. I lost the man I loved because I'm not pretty enough-"

"I know all of these things, I've seen them." He interrupted.

My heart dropped into my stomach. Watching me? How could he have been watching me?

"Are you scared now? Do I scare you, watching you all these years?" He began to slowly walk back and forth with his eyes still barring down on me. The soft hairs on his chest were peaking out of the white dress shirt. He paced himself while walking and looking at me.

"You scare me now, yes! But, all of these years? You make no sense." I said, pulling myself to sit up on the bed instead of laying down.

"The Opera Populaire, 1871, the infamous fire that was caused the mysterious masked man. Oh, how long ago those days were." His voice trailed off into sarcasm as he hissed them at me.

I remembered that fire perfectly, still fresh in my mind...

…

"_Mama, I shall be back, I'm going to run to get some ribbon for the Saint Valentine's dance at the school." I shouted, my hand turning the doorknob of our front door. I was only eight, yet, my mother trusted me in going out into the streets._

"_Be back in an hour; it shouldn't take that long anyways." She said back, still standing at the stove continuing to make that delicious stew I loved so._

_I ran outside as I wrapped my coat around my body and ran through the main streets, making sure to avoid any alleyways as much as possible. I looked around; there were more police men out here than usual and a slew of commotion followed the street in front of me._

_Curious as I was, I ran towards the screams and shouts, the yelling of the officers and the vulgar comments the higher class men and women shouted. I pushed past them, my black hair gently falling over my shoulder as I looked at the sight ahead of me. The Opera house was on fire, and it was raging into the deep purple sky. All sorts of people were fleeing from the house but, I was running in. My mother and her brother had taken me here once before to see the wonderful work of Christine Daae' sing in place of La Carlotta. We were taken back by the sudden change, but we fell in love instantly, or at least I did. I practiced over and over again, trying to sing like her. My mother and her brother would never pay attention._

_But, here it was: the Opera Populaire, burning. My heart was wrenching as I ran past the officers who tried keeping people back. Thank goodness for my short height at the time so I could slip past them. I ran towards the exit, searching for a door so I could look inside one last time. The fire had only consumed the right side, slowly growing over to the left. I shook my head and pressed on, forgetting about the danger. I threw off my coat on the snow-covered ground and headed for the door until it was thrown open and a man in a white shirt and black pants came stumbling out._

_He looked at me, his right side of his face destroyed and his hair going from a light brown to dark brown wisps in the light breeze of the night. He looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed as if he had been crying. His hand immediately shot up to the right side of his face, covering the deformity. A scowl came over his face._

"_Leave, child! Did you want to see the Devil's Child also and make jokes of me, too?" He hissed at me, new tears streaking down his face._

"_N-No, Monsieur, I came only to see the fire. Are you hurt?" I said softly, walking forward to him to check if he was alright. I held my hands up, which reached only to the top of his stomach. He knelt down and looked at me, curiosity and a hint of fear came across his face, or the part he was showing._

_I touched the left side of his face, and his eyes closed instantly, melding into my warm hands. I grabbed his right hand and touched it, letting him know it was okay. His hand fell slowly, revealing the disfigurement. I didn't move, didn't react the way most probably did. I smiled, and touched lightly at the red burn-looking marks on his face._

"_I am a monster," he whispered, looking into my bright blue eyes with his light green._

"_No, no person is a monster. Come, I have food at my home. You must be hungry." I smiled, taking my hands away from his face and grabbing my coat that was covered in a few specks of snow._

_A loud bang came from the doorway the man came out of, a group of people were shouting and the glimmer of light began to grow from the doorway._

"_No, child. You must go. Thank you for the kindness you have shown me; I shall never forget you." He said quickly. His voice so comforting. He grabbed my hand and kissed the top of it, a light tingle surging through my nerves before disappearing into the night._

…

"You're the man." I gasped, holding my free hand to my lips. I looked at him with new eyes, remembering the night we had met and the police searching for him. I still felt a tingle on my hand as I thought about his warm kiss that cold night.

"Yes, now you remember." He gave a small smile, stopping at the edge of the bed and sitting down, looking at me. His gloved hand touched my face, caressing the soft cheek. I fell into that hand, feeling the warmth radiating off of it.

"For eighteen years I have watching you and now, the way you have been treated over those years, I'm going to make you a better singer, actor and person, in general." He said, removing his hand from my face and bringing me out of euphoria.

"And capturing someone and fastening them to a bed is the definition of a better person?" I snapped back, watching his facial expression turn from care to annoyance in a split second.

He stepped away from the bed and walked back to his desk and took his seat, picking up the quill and dipping it in the black ink. He began to write on the paper that was already on the table and as he continued to write, I was able to loosen the metal chain that was wrapped around my wrist and slip my hand through it.

I rubbed the flesh, looking at the red indents the metal gave to me. I turned my feet over the side of the bed, gently laying my feet on the stone ground.

"Going somewhere?" He said, not even turning his head to look at me. He had stopped writing and had listened as I maneuvered around the bed.

I began to stand, taking my shoes off and letting my bare feet touch the freezing stone. A huge shiver ran through my spine and I gasped a tad when goosebumps began to rise. I watched as he pushed the chair back and heard as it scrapped amongst the stone. He turned towards me, his eyes looking at me as if he were trying to look into my soul.

"I have missed you, Nathalie. That night, your young heart and innocence captured my torn heart," he began to walk towards me and as I watched him get closer and closer, my heart didn't speed up because of the fear, but because I, too, was remembering that night and how he looked and how I didn't shun him away. His hands grabbed my face, bringing my eyes to look into his. "you made me want to write music for myself, not for a voice who wasn't going to love me. Thank you." He smiled and kissed the top of my forehead, taking away the freight for a few moments.

"_You alone can make my song take flight_," he sang to me, his voice so warm as his breath grazed my forehead.

"_Help me make the music of the night._" I finished for him, looking into his bright green and blue eyes.

They looked at me with shock and a hint of happiness. I smiled and flashbacks of the man knelling before me in the snow outside the burning Opera Populaire popped into my head eighteen years later. His green flickered with a hint of blue, showing me the true beauty in his eyes.

Why? Why had it been almost two decades until he finally said hello again? He had been so magnificent when I had seen him the first time. Even with his deformity, he looked so handsome. I wrapped my arms around his neck and felt him tense from such close contact. I stood on my tip toes as I tried to get a better view of his face, half-hidden with the white plaster mask. His slick black hair was still so smooth while mine was becoming tousled from the bit of moisture in the air coming from the lake. It held a light layer of fog and I looked away from the lake and back at him.

"Even at eight years old, you still haven't changed." My lips slipped out, but they were covered with his lips as I closed the gap between us. I pulled him into me, letting him wrap his arms around my body and hold me securely to his, as if I were going to fall or was gonna be pulled away.

The way his lips felt over mine, so plump as they caressed my cold ones, warming them with sensuality. He pulled away but, held onto me still, looking into my icy blue eyes.

"_Say you'll stay with me, one love, one lifetime,_" he lightly sang into my hair, running his gloved hand through the raven black hair.

"_Say the word and I will follow you,_" I sang back, placing my hands on his cheeks, one hand on the mask and the other on his soft skin.

Each of us breathe together as one, our chests together. I look down at his chest, the prominent muscles trying to escape the white shirt. He holds my sides, looking down at my chest as our breathing matches perfectly.

"_Anywhere you go, let me go too_

_Love me, that's all I ask of you._" We sang together, our harmonized voices echoing through-out the underground lair.

I smile at him, finally realizing that all he wanted was love and kindness and here I was, standing in front of him, showing him all of that. Though he kidnapped me from the alley and though I was very apprehensive about even talking to him, remembering that night made my life seem important now.

Never will there be a night where I will be lonely, asking questions to the open air or bashing my head against a hard pillow to make my life go by faster or get it over with quicker. The night I was drinking myself to death, he saved me and took me out of the cold, loved me and watched over me for so long.

"I promise I'll always be yours," I whispered in his ear, feeling his hands grip tighter to my sides and the feeling of his lips kissing my neck.

**A/N: Okay, I don't take credit for the songs. "The Hills Are Alive" from the Sound of Music. "If I Die Young" by The Band Perry. "The Music of the Night" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. "All I Ask of You" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. More to come guys! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter Two: Letting Go of the Past

**Author's Note: So, I'm completely wasted. Seriously, you don't know how hard it is being drunk and writing the end of the chapter being completely gone. You know, I think this is how Mark Twain felt like: always drunk, living in a world with no consequences. Yes. *high fives the wall* Ate Domino's Pizza but, now, I'm gonna go throw it up. Review and tell me guys! Love all of ya'll! Niikkii95 and RedDeathLvr, ya'll are amazing. Thanks so much! Well, time to read. =)**

**Disclaimer: **Blah blah blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Blah blah blah...

**Chapter Two: Letting Go of the Past**

A week had passed since being with Erik. God, what a perfect name. Every time I would call his name, a butterfly-feeling would wrap itself through my lower stomach and I'd hold it, telling it to calm down and when he would look at me with those green eyes, another surge wouldn't just hit my stomach, oh no, my whole body would develop the goosebumps I had grown accustomed to over the week. No matter the time of the day, whenever I called him for a question, he would be at the most attentive state of mind, coming up to me and grabbing my hands, gently laying ghost kisses on the knuckles. Then, my question would be lost.

"I believe you call me over so that you can make me do this every single time." He a faint smile appeared on his lips and a large blush overcame my features.

"How dare you assume. I needed a question asked but, it seems as if it has left my mind for the time being. I shall call again once I remember it again." I said quickly and in a hurry, rushing to turn around and pat my cheeks to get the blood to travel elsewhere.

"As you see fit, mademoiselle." He said, walking away again.

There he went, so regal and debonair like the most prized bachelor in all of existence. He sat down at the organ he adored and began to scribble on sheets of paper, probably writing more gorgeous music. I looked at that black hair he had, never out of place, never experiencing the humidity in this lair. I touched mine, so oily and dirty from ignoring the bathtub for more than the Lord knows.

"Eric?" I called once more, now walking to him instead of standing there and letting him walk to me. My hand lay softly on his shoulder and I felt him relax under the touch.

"Yes? Did you remember your question?" He asked, looking back at me and ignoring the music half-written on the organ's music stand.

"I must bathe. Where is your water room?" I said, watching his reaction go from eager to know my question to looking completely confused.

"What?" Confirming my thought at confusion, he stood, taking my face in his warm and uncovered hands. They were rough and calloused but, the touch felt so good, so much better than falling into the leather.

I snapped out of that amazing move he would do to me if ever he wanted me to forget that funny expression that was on his face. I grabbed his wrists and pulled them down and held his hands in mine. "I need to bathe. I'm disgusting. Look at me!" I stepped back and let him look me over. His eyes glanced quickly at my body before returning quickly to my eyes.

"I believe I understand. Come, follow me." He said quietly, letting go of one hand and taking me down to the lake where a small door was hidden behind a large curtain. He pushed the door open to reveal a water room with the bathtub situated in the middle. Everything was stone, including the magnificent bathtub. A glimmer of silver was poking through the cracks of the stones and a mirror was hanging on the far left wall.

"I shall bring you some warm water. Please," he motioned for me to step inside.

I looked up at him, nodding and walked in, hearing the creaking of the door close. I took a look around the stone room. So cold, so dead. I held my shoulders, feeling the sudden chill go down my spine. I looked to the corner of the room where a large metal bowl sat with rocks inside of it. I picked one up, feeling the smoothness of it. I put it back down once I heard the door open again.

He came in, two large buckets in hand with water steaming from inside of it. He walked over to the bathtub and emptied them, watching as steam rose to the stone ceiling. He looked to me and smiled, walking over to where I was and taking a knife out of his pants.

I backed up, my body to the wall as I watched him near me. I kept my eyes glued to him and the expression on his face. He continued walking and paused in front of the metal bowl. He pulled something else from underneath the bowl, something gray looking. A tiny cup of oil sat underneath and once he connected his knife and the gray object, a spark ignited the oil and burned intensely under the bowl of hot stones.

He stood up and looked at me, confused as to why I had plastered myself to the wall. What would you have done if someone you hadn't seen in eighteen years kidnapped you and then pulled a knife out in front of you? I shook my head as he walked back out with the two empty buckets and brought a single one back filled with water. He grabbed the small ladle that hung on the side of the bucket and poured it over the now red heated up rocks.

Steam; tons of steam filled the room, making it so deliciously that I forgot all about how dead it was before. He walked away and went for the door.

"Wait," I called out, my hand reaching for him.

He stopped and turned his head just so he could catch just a tiny glimpse of me.

"Yes, mademoiselle?" He said, his voice deeper than usual as it resonated through the stone room.

What could I possibly say? He seemed to notice when I pressed my body against the wall in fear, how can I show him that I didn't mean it?

"Stay with me?" I asked, watching as he stood up straight and turned to look at me.

His eyes had hesitation in them and as he turned around fully to face me, my heart was beating out of control. I could tell just with a simple plea to stay with me, talk to me, don't leave me that he had never been asked that. Had no one in his life had pleaded with him to stay before?

"Why?" He asked, his voice now hoarse.

"Because," I started, trying to finish where I wanted to end. I opened my mouth but, nothing came out. I stomped my foot on the ground; the steam from the bathtub and rocks had made the floor slippery, and just like that night two weeks ago, I was falling again.

I let out a small yelp before landing in his strong arms. My heart was beating with adrenaline, making my whole body shake. I looked up at him and gave him a timid smile. He was knelling, one arm wrapped behind my neck and the other holding my knees close to him. He held me like that for as long as I could remember.

"You must stop falling like this; my knees are becoming gravely injured." He smiled, kissing my forehead. I laughed, wrapping my arms around his neck.

He stood and lay me on my feet. "I shall be outside the door while you change and bathe." He said, turning around and walking over to the hot rocks. He grabbed the ladle again and poured the water over the rocks. Sizzles and steam seemed to echo through the room when I watched him leave.

…

I was sitting in the bathtub, the water barely coming up to my stomach. I had looked around for the soap, the animal fat my mother would make. Erik had none. Oh God, that name again. I smiled like a little girl and felt my cheeks burn.

The door open and he walked in with a blindfold over his eyes. He held two more buckets of hot water and placed them on the floor before lifting it a tad to look for the hot rocks again. He poured water over them again and steam filled the room. He did this about four times before the room was completely cloudy. I could barely recognize him in this fog.

"That's better," he whispered. He pulled off the blindfold and grabbed a chair from the other side of the room and sat next to the rocks.

"Erik?" I asked, now understanding why he created so much steam: he didn't want to see me.

"Yes, mademoiselle?" He called out, playing with the fabric in between fingers. He kept his eyes down, only watching the black silk in his hands.

I watched him play. When I was a little girl after that night, I would dream of him. I would dream of him telling me stories. He had the most dominating voice that was both gentle and strong. I bet he could command a room without words. All would listen to what he would have to say and never doubt who he was.

"Do you have any soap?" I asked, looking down at the water and grabbing a handful. I pulled the water to my chest and let it flow down, creating little trails of water that seeped back down to where it began.

"An odd question," he chuckled. He poured more water on the rocks and once the steam filled the room again, he moved towards the bathtub, around to the other side. He picked up a large glass vase with some yellow liquid inside and a small bowl of thick sand. "Here," he said, placing it on the side of the bathtub.

I raised an eyebrow. Uh, what? I must have had the most confused look on my face for him to have laughed like that. His voice echoed loudly in the room, booming with happiness.

"Watch," he said, and I watched ever so carefully. He grabbed the vase and poured it in the sand, mixing it thoroughly with his fingers. He grabbed my arm, took a nice amount and started rubbing it on my skin. Rough as it had looked, the liquid made it so delightful.

"What is this?" I asked, watching him delicately touch my arm.

"This is _my_ soap. Olive oil mixed with the sand from the Trahili beach in Chios, Greece. There is some vanilla fragrance in here but, it's to give it a good smell." He looked up from my arms and into my eyes.

I must have looked like such a lunatic looking at him with a big grin on my face as he massaged the sand and olive oil into my skin. His light green eyes were looking into mine again, and how I longed to reach out and touch his face. His eyes weren't just looking into mine but, were looking into my soul, into who I had become over these years. I smiled a little and sucked in a small gasp.

My hand grabbed both of his and he immediately stopped massaging the mixture. I felt his fingers shaking as my hand gently hugged both of his, assuring him that everything was okay. I moved my face closer to his and he stayed perfectly still, never moving, hardly breathing but, I could smell that sweet gorgeous breath he held inside. My hand left his and touched his face, the masked side of his face. His eyebrow quivered, his eyes closing and his face pressing itself into my hand.

I felt his hand leave my arm, touching my hand that fell on his cheek. He held it there, holding it with the warmest touch.

"_Is this a dream, if it is_

_Please don't wake me from this high_

_I've become comfortably numb_

_until you opened up my eyes._" I sang, my voice sounding hoarse but, still manageable to sing. My voice sounding through the stone room, the room vibrating at some points when I sang an amazing note.

"_Do what it's like, when everything's right_

_I can't believe, you found me when no one else was looking_

_How did you know just where I would be_

_You broke through all of my confusion_

_The ups and the downs and you still didn't leave_

_I guess that you saw what nobody could see_

_You found me..._" I sang my heart out, holding onto his face now with both hands. His hands were holding my shoulders, holding me down into the bathtub so I wouldn't reveal myself. He looked at me, his lips pulled into a small smile.

"Erik, what's wrong?" I asked, my heart now aching to know why he didn't enjoy the words I sang to him. Was it my voice? Was it my body? I began to pull back, sitting down on my rear instead of sitting on my feet.

"No, don't move." He said coldly, his eyes looking at my face, no where else.

I pulled myself up onto my knees again, rubbing my thumb over his cheek. It was so smooth, like hair refused to grow there and let the skin be as soft as velvet. A tear came down my face, curving perfectly to my cheek. It fell off my chin and landed on his forearm. I looked away from his eyes and down at it as it sat there in content. His sleeves were rolled up, this shirt unbuttoned in the front. I couldn't help but glance at it quickly. I looked up at him.

"Tell me what's wrong, please." I said, almost sounding pathetic to know. I felt as if I were an old beggar woman on the corner asking for any penny for his amazing thoughts.

"You are not afraid of me?" He asked, his eyes now brimming with tears.

I shook my head no and moved ever closer to him.

"I am a monster, no one has loved me for so long. Why you? What makes you any different?" He asked me, his hands moving from my shoulders to my neck, caressing it so lovingly. His fingers played with my wet hair, and his thumbs rubbed the stress away.

"I see no monster. I have never seen a monster." I said, melding into his touch. I closed my eyes and felt one of his hands pull away. It came back quickly though and I opened my eyes to see him.

There he was, no mask. His pride now crumbling as I looked at him. My eyes darted from side to side, looking at the difference. His plump lips were separated, begging to say something but his heart was holding him back. His eyes were filled with the most sadness I had ever seen. Not even the night I first met him did he look this sad.

I moved my hand over the scars and red blisters that covered the right side of his face. He closed his eyes, his head sinking a little and I could feel his breaths quicken, and it jerked his body a tad. I picked his face up to look at me. He opened his eyes and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

I stood up, revealing every part of myself to him and he fell back, leaning on his hands. I felt my cheeks flush red and burn. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"I have scars also; you're not the only person who has been hurt before." I said before turning around and showing him my back. I grabbed my black hair and pulled it over my shoulder, gripping it as I heard him gasp. I knew all too well what he was seeing and it took all of the willpower I had to grab a blanket and wrap myself in it, hide from him and what he was looking at.

My body tensed as a finger touched my back, tracing from the top to the bottom at a curved angle, giving me goosebumps as it finally left my body. I let out a deep breath before taking in another and holding it. My knees were beginning to wobble; I felt my body sway and my vision held black spots in it.

"Who did this to you?" He asked, his voice now riddled with anger. His hands grabbed my side and I felt him pull closer to me, holding my wet body to his dry clothes.

I pushed the tears back, trying to forget those days...

…

_I was seventeen years old and completely depressed. Not only had I celebrated my birthday by myself with none of my brothers or sisters, I was alone. They were dead, all dead, laying in puddles of their own blood on the hardwood floors of our parlour room. All of their blood was mixing in with the others and as soon as I walked in on that gruesome scene, I collapsed to my knees, sobbing hysterically. I screamed at the top of my lungs, my mother running inside with Henry or what ever his name was._

"_Mon Dieu! What has happened?" My mother screamed, running over to my brothers body and holding his head in her lap, covering her beautiful light blue skirt in his royal red blood. She rubbed his wavy blonde hair, smearing blood through the soft curls._

"_I shall call the police! Don't do anything!" What's his name shouted as he ran out of the house and shouted at someone to get the police._

"_Mother, what happened?" I screamed at her, clutching my chest and looking at my siblings dead bodies._

"_Does it look like I know, Nathalie? Get out of here! Leave!" She screamed at me, her head placing itself on my older brothers forehead._

_I stood outside the large white columned mansion for almost four hours watching the police and detectives run back and forth from the parlour to their carriages, grabbing large blankets and other things. I had just come from my friend's home and this is what I come back to find? All of them gone?_

"_Are you Mademoiselle Nathalie André?" A scruffy voice asked. I looked up only to see the eyes of a man before a gun was put in front of my face. "Stand. Do not run away. Do not scream. I will kill you if you do any thing other than what I have told you." He threatened._

_I did as he said, standing and looking up at him. A large fist came barreling towards my face, just enough time for me to look at it before it hit me, dropping me to the ground. I blacked out, only waking up to be tied to the edge of the bed, sitting on the floor._

_My arms were tied to the posts at the bottom, pulled away from my body. As I tried waking up from such a hit, another slap connected to my face, sending my head away from the attacker and limping over to the side._

"_Well, the daughter of the Doukas of Athens. What an amazing treat for us, right Axel?" The same scruffy voice said again, the same when the man held the gun to my head._

_The Doukas of Athens, my father. A man of nobility who wed my mother and left her as soon as I turned four. I remember only a few memories of him. The way his hair was so coiffed, so black just like mine. His eyes a burning blue that intimidated all who so opposed him._

_I shook off the memory as these men raped me with their eyes. Their looks made my blood curdle, it made it want to stop moving towards the heart that kept me living. I squeezed my eyes closed, not wanting to know what they were about to do next. It felt as if if I close my eyes, nothing could hurt me or haunt me for the rest of my life._

_When they grabbed my arm after cutting the rope, they threw me against the wall. My bruised face already hitting the hard cement. I winced and let out a small scream of pain._

"_Well, looks as if someone is already done for the fun." Another hard voice said._

_I felt my shirt being ripped off, my skirt still on and in place. A cold rod was placed against my back._

"_Let's see if this can't get anymore exciting." Said the second man and then, the pain began. Whip after whip, the pain was sent shooting through my body, coursing through my veins to every square inch of my body._

_Every scream I let out did nothing to save me, but made it easier for them to beat harder, heavier than the last._

_I passed out from the pain and exhaustion, ignoring every thing they did to me. I woke up in an alley next to my home. I remember sitting up, touching through my shirt to feel the pain they caused. It was no dream. I felt the scars completely healed over, their wounds now looking like a trophy forever imbedded in my skin._

_I stood up and walked inside my house seven weeks later._

…

His hands touched my back, gently tracing over the scars the whip had done to me. He felt them, let his fingers guide themselves done the tiny bumps the skin was trying to hide, but failed to succeed. I was breathing deeply, letting the memory try to pass as quickly as it had come into my life again. After nine years of trying to hide it, he brought it up again once more, making me relive the suffering I had to endure.

Finally, silence was broken.

"I had wondered where you had gone for those two months," he said, letting all of his fingers rest on my back.

I took another deep breath in before reaching for the towel that sat on the floor next to the bathtub. "You had been looking for me?" I asked, wrapping the towel around my body, turning back to look at him in the eyes again.

They were defeated, so sad. I couldn't help but to reach out and grab his face. His unmasked face and my back were the same. Something unbearable to society. No one could ever treat us normally because of such things. His was on the outside, making every one scared just by the look he would create. Mine was hidden away, only visible to the man I was supposed to marry, give myself up to. That failed miserably. When the last man I had been with saw hit, he held his hand to his mouth to hold back the bile that was coming out, only to relieve his stomach after I had left.

No one could love me because of this.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there to save you," he whispered. His hot breath grazing the top of my chest. His hands held my sides again; his fingers gripping on for dear life.

"Don't be sad, it wasn't your fault. Please, believe me. We're grown adults and we must live with the choices that we make-"

"But you never made the choice for this to happen to you!" He shouted, interrupting me.

His hand had once again grabbed his mask, replacing it on his deformed face.

"No, but I made the choice to sit in the alley way, contemplating life and all that meant." I told him, looking as he shook his head.

I stepped out of the tub, my legs still holding the water on them and dripping on the floor.

"It wasn't your fault, Erik. Believe me." I ended, knelling next to him and holding his body close to mine, making sure he knew that I was the only safe thing he could trust in. I held him, and he held me.

He was crying and for that, tears of my own streamed my clean face.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Okay, read and review guys! It means the world to me, seriously! "You Found Me", by Kelly Clarkson. If you have a chance to listen to this song, do it. I love it. Thanks again guys!**


	4. Chapter Three: Unexpected Proposals

**Author's Note: Alright, my dear readers. Another chapter posted. I do apologize about confessing I was wasted on the other chapter. It was true only because I was fired from my job. =( Yes, the economy sucks. This chapter is one to be really focused on. It has a lot of information in it that you would want to pay attention to. Anyways, thank you to Niikkii95 and Why Fireflies Flash for reviewing this story. And thank you to MissCaityGrace, Niikkii95 and Why Fireflies Flash for adding this story to their favorites. It means the world to me, it really does. I write for all of ya'll. Thank you so much. Now, on with the show!**

**Disclaimer:** Blah blah blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... blah blah blah

**Chapter Three: Unexpected Proposals**

I was tapping my fingers on my free knee; the other knee, the not so lucky one, was falling asleep under the weight of my elbow and hand holding my head up. My head was hurting, spinning and I felt like throwing up. But, Erik decided to take his sweet and most precious time to get ready. Ready for what, you ask? Yes, well, journeying up to the streets of Paris, to my flat so that I may retrieve my valuables. The cashmere sweater and black skirt I wore, every day, was beginning to wither. The smooth stitched fabric was thinning under the wear and tear of every day use. Tiny holes were developing on the elbow and around the neck. I looked like an old miserable wench.

Erik was sitting at his organ, arranging music and placing them ever so carefully in small drawers of his desk, which were just next to the magnificent organ. He had only his white dress shirt open and his black slacks were looking as if they were slicking and sticking to his skin. I looked back to his white shirt again, squinting my eyes as if to get a better look. His shirt was covered with sweat, making it opaque and sort of translucent. His tanned olive skin was showing through and I finally let out a huff before throwing both of my hands down on the bed.

He turned his head a little to look at what I was annoyed at and his eyes connected with mine. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the music and making sure they were safe.

"We shall leave when I have finished this. Patience," he said, still facing the organ.

Patience. Yes, let us discuss this word for a moment. Patience is to be undeterred from madness and people who do not understand how to accept that things are going to be ridiculously slow because _someone_ is afraid of venturing up to the streets of Paris.

I let out a small scream and stood up from the bed, slipping my ballet slippers on and grabbing a cape that was hanging from a standing long mirror. I wrapped it around myself, walking towards the door before a hand placed itself on my shoulder. A tight grip made me stop moving my hand towards the lock.

"I said, 'patience'." He looked down at me, his light green eyes now hard with a look of anger. His lips were pursed together, his jaw muscle twitching. The gorgeous left side of his face and the covered right side were now looking like one. The mask had an evil look to it and now that I saw him as annoyed as he was, the mask was a perfect fit to such a look.

"If you had only waited a few moments more, I would have been ready to leave." He reached over behind me and grabbed the lock and moved it from it's position. "But, such eagerness is quite attractive and I enjoy it very much." He gave a small smile before opening the door.

I turned and began the climb up the steps to the snow-clad streets. I felt the air nip at my face, little pricks of knives were enjoying turning my face red and numb. I shook all the feelings off and began to walk a few steps in the whiteness before looking back, watching Erik as he finally stepped up from the top stair.

I smiled, feeling my cheeks almost breaking. It felt as if they were frozen and once I contracted the muscles, they broke. Yes, I now have broken cheeks. I shook my head and laughed off that silly thought when I watched Erik near me, taking my cold body against his warm one.

Like a magnet, I was clinging for dear life to my heat source, refusing to let go under any circumstances. As he walked, his left foot first, my left foot would follow. Together we walked in unison until I turned left and he turned right, our two bodies separating. No longer having my heat source, I frantically looked back, watching as Erik gave a laugh.

I ran over, my feet becoming numb with each step I took. Another thing to put on my list when I reach my flat: get thicker shoes. I grabbed onto him, my arms circling his waist as we continued out walk through the snow.

…

We walked in silence. Cold, unyielding silence. The only sounds on the streets and the alleyways we walked were from our shoes crunching the snow. Every once in a while, I would sneeze; which, in turn, made my whole body jump and my hair fly every where. A hand would grab my arm, steadying me as I tried to gain my balance. I looked up at him and he looked away as soon as I did.

What was going on? I didn't think being so pushy to leave would make him this mad. "Thank you," I said to him, only to receive a small 'hmph' as acknowledgment. I straightened myself, fixed my raven black hair so it was falling down my back again and we continued walking.

An hour into the walk and my teeth chattering so loudly Erik grabbed my jaw for quiet, we reached the flat. There were many carriages out in the street in front of the building. I raised a brow and squinted my eyes to get a better look. 'POLICE', painted on the side of all the blue carriages with white paint.

Seven carriages, more like tiny prison cells with bad suspension. The large wooden wheels had a tiny coat of snow, but, what was weird, is that one carriage was white with gold trimming. A blue and white stripped flag lightly blew in the wind. My heart stopped beating. The tiny angels hanging on the side looked as if they were trying to fly; fly away more like it.

I shook my head. "This is _not_ happening." I whispered. I saw as two horses were attached to the carriage; one black, the other, white.

"What is going on, mademoiselle?" His silk tenor voice sounded in my ear. His hot breath grazing down the back of my neck.

After the goosebumps settled, I turned to look at him.

"For you safety and mine, I think it would be best if you stay here. I have some," I paused, looking back to the unusual carriage. "Some business I have to take care of. _Personal_ business."

I turned to leave but, a hand held my arm steadily. I looked up to the man.

He had a stern look on his face, something I have grown in love with. Even though I knew he was trying to keep a straight face, I knew a smile hid behind those gorgeous lips.

I reached up with my hands and grabbed his face, gently pulling him down to my level and kissing him. His lips, so warm against my numb and purple-looking ones. Even though the blood was flowing through my body at an alarming rate just being next to him, there was no feeling like touching him.

"I shall be back; please, do not worry." I gave him another kiss before turning and walking up the street. I gave another turn to look at Erik and he was gone. Not a single trace of him.

I turned back to the gray-coloured building in front of me, looking up at the four stories it displayed. It was showing the level on the top, with the grand windows, lit up. Figures walked back and forth between the windows and a woman's figure was clearly seen.

I shook my head again and let out a large and deep sigh. Oh God, why at this time did they have to be here? Why did she have to do this? So prude, so ridiculous in the way she handled things. I wonder what husband she's on now. Thirteen? Probably. It suits her; she shouldn't have treated me the way she did for all those years. Favoring Andrew and the others. Andrew, the eldest. Miriam, James, William, Francine, and Jacques. I sighed again. All that blood. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up, taking in deep breaths to calm me down. Those names, I can never forget them.

I didn't even realize I was at my door until a high-pitched scream broke my head. I looked in and saw only a figure running towards me before I was being toppled by weight unimaginable. Falling again. I think this was becoming some sort of new thing I was doing. But, instead of Erik's arms reaching out to catch me, the floor offered all it's glory and the hard and dirty floor greeted me.

My head slammed against the boards and a white light came and went as quickly as I had fallen. The knocking sound from my skull colliding with my head was making me hear things. Other sounds were taping out. Oh, sounded like footsteps. I felt the weight on top of me being lifted off, making breathing come easier. I coughed, feeling my shoulders being picked up, four hands on me and setting me on my feet lightly.

I touched the back of my head, feeling the growing bump. I winced at the pain and brought my hand down to check for blood.

"Oh, Nathalie! Where have you been?" Her voice broke all the others asking if I was okay.

I shook my head and walked inside the flat, looking for my black leather chair. I found it, holding her ass up. I grunted a little and walked over to the table. As I leaned against it, I noticed a man. Not in proper police uniform wear but, in a exaggerated suit of white and gold. I linked him to the carriage immediately.

"Who is he?" I asked rather unladylike. My eyebrows were brought down and I glared between the two.

His blonde hair tossed into a long ponytail. It went down and fell over his shoulder. He held his chest high and his left arm was hidden from my sight. I looked back to my mother, her green eyes filling with happiness as she looked at me. Her small frame was such an illusion. She held all the weight in her clothes and that gaudy green dress she had on didn't look as heavy as a horse.

"I've been away. What is it that you want? Are you here flaunting your new 'boy-toy'?" I mocked, my lips curling in disgust.

"Actually," he began, his thick accent coming out.

I believed I began mocking him right then and there when my mother stood up.

"Young lady, desist from your actions now! Do not act like that in front of-"

"In front of who, mother? You're fourteenth husband? Might I add that he is a tad bit _younger_ than what you usually go for? Did all the other old, wrinkly men become too scarce? Too disgusting?"

"Actually," his voice interrupted.

"Is that all you know? Actually?"

The arguing continued and the police finally left. The three of us in a room together wasn't the best idea and another phone call to the police will most likely be returning to clean up a terrible gruesome scene.

"Enough! Every one just calm down and stop!" He yelled, his thick accent again louder than the two screeching women in the living room. His dark amber eyes protruding through his olive skin. Both of his arms were held up between the two of us, as if that could really prove a barrier between mother and daughter. A small thin scar traced the palm of his hand, beginning at his thumb and circling around down to the bottom of his palm. I looked back to my mother.

My mother and I glared each other down as we turned from each other, our eyes still following each others movements. My body turned away from her but, my face and my anger was directed towards her in the most amazing way.

"Now, I have not come all the way to this country to see two women quarrel! I came because I was given a chance to... love, you could say." He paused looking the two of us over.

I looked at him and ran my fingers through my hair. "If you think I am going to marry you after you've married my mother, I think you need to leave!" I shouted, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I am not married to her! Nor will I ever be! I am here to marry _you_!" He shouted at me, his white teeth glowing with contrast against his skin.

My heart stopped beating and it took all I could to walk back over to the table and lean against it for support. My hand leaned against the dark grain and I felt when the table began to push back from me falling against it.

"_Marry_ me? Marry _me_?" My other hand gripped onto the cashmere sweater and as I felt the holes against the neckline, I remembered why I had came here.

"Nathalie Lydie André, you must marry him to save your family. My looks aren't as amazing as what they use to be and I can assure you that." My mother was now pleading, or pretending to beg. I didn't even have to turn my head to know she had both arms out, as if begging for me to run into her and hug her. Her green eyes trying to beg me to cry as she begins to think of some sad memory to help with the tears.

I turn my head and look at her. Yes, I am so right.

"What is your name, man?" I said, now regaining my composure and looking at the both of them.

"I am Pringkips Klaudios Stephanopoulos. Prince of the Greeks, here to marry the Doukas' daughter." His eyes glinted with something I had seen once before but, I ignored it.

"Prince Klaudios. How humble am I to be in your presence." I gave an over-the-top curtsey and brought myself back up fast and glared at him. My sarcasm was seen from a mile away and I heard him growl under his breath.

He returned the angered look and let his arms drop back down to his sides.

"Nathalie, an arranged marriage is the only way to bring your royal blood back to such an amazing country, such as Greece. And you are not happy here; you can't even keep a job. You've taken and borrowed so much money, you're probably in debt with the banks." My mother said, fixing her make-up and sitting back in the black leather chair as she composed herself again.

I looked at her and shook my head. "My money is my problem to deal with. You've spent all of yours and I do not understand why you don't marry the little Prince here." I spat out, walking away from the two and into the bedroom next to the living room, looking around for my suitcases.

"But Nathalie, your beauty is impeccable! And you're not getting any younger, might I add. One of these days, you can not have children and you'll dry up like a field in Africa!" I heard my mother's voice grow as she followed me into my bedroom, trying to trap me with her words. I was not going to fall for this again. I am a woman and she needs to see that.

"I know I'm beautiful! But, I am _not_ marrying him!" I screamed at her, grabbing the two cream-coloured cases from under my wrought iron bed and dropping them on top of the mattress. I turned and walked to the dresser and began pulling out the drawers and taking out all the clothes I had and tossing them into the suitcases.

"Oh yeah? And who do you think you're going to marry? Someone much more handsome and much more wealthy than a _Prince_? Oh, Nathalie, how could you _ever_ live with knowing you found someone better?" Her voice was cased in sarcastic venom and once I stood up and turned to face her, she backed down. The tiny woman looking up into her only child's eyes; the only child left.

"I have found someone else." I said as I turned away and walked to my vanity, grabbing all of the make up I could hold and dropping it into a small but deep purple bag. I laced it close and put it on top of the clothes in one of the suitcases. I walked over to the wall and began grabbing all the ballet slippers and the high-heeled booties.

"You've found someone else? How could _you_ have found someone?" She asked, her voice following me and I realized she was standing behind me. "Is he handsome? Probably not; he's probably as ugly as the mud in the streets!"

I threw the shoes in the cases and made sure everything was in there, locking them close and grabbing the handles. I picked them up with all of my might and felt as if my arms were going to be ripped out.

"If you think your words are going to make me furious," I began without even looking at her until two hands grabbed my tiny ones and helped pick the suitcases up and into his hands. I whipped around and saw him with a smile creeping behind the lush pink lips. "You're absolutely right." I breathed out, watching as he held the heavy cargo in his hands like it weighed only a feather.

"Who are you?" My mother's shrill voice broke me out of my trance.

I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

"I am Monsieur Erik, pleased to meet such a lovely woman." His silky voice said, placing the cases down and grabbing her hand and, while giving a small bow, kissed the top of her hand.

I watched them and my mother looked as if she were going to faint. Erik's cape was gone and he was in the black suit he wore often. His black hair was still slicked back and his green eyes were only on her.

"Monsieur," my mother said, giving a tiny curtsey and looking at me, smiling and winking.

I scoffed and looked to Erik. "You have impeccable timing, Erik." I said, smiling and watching as he stood back up and reached out for my face, rubbing my cheek and warming it.

"Let us leave, love. The carriage is waiting and it does take quite a while to go home." He said with such class I thought I was going to faint from love.

I think I giggled too, blushing like a little girl. I knew that my face was the colour of blood and when I began to walk out of the room, I looked to Klaudios.

He was standing there next to the table and his hands were behind his back, his chest high but, his face low and all I could see from his lowered brow was his deep amber eyes burning a hole into me.

I shook my head and looked at Erik. He was looking at Klaudios and his brows lowered and I could have sworn I saw him bare his teeth. I grabbed Erik's arm and he regained his regal poise and continued walking, his eyes still on Klaudios as we left the flat and began our decent down the stairs.

It took us only a few seconds to leave and I looked to Erik and watched as he walked over to a black carriage with two black horses attached to it. I followed him cautiously, looking over the carriage and wondering where-

"It is from the the horse stables, Nathalie. I did not steal it." He interrupted my thoughts.

I was startled and shook my head. A huge blush broke over my features and smiled. "No! No, I was just wondering where it came from! I knew you didn't steal it!" I said, climbing up the steps to go inside it as Erik had already placed the luggage there.

He jumped up to the seat and controlled the horses reins, looking at me through a window that was behind him. I held my arms on the windowsill and smiled up at him, massaging his back and felt the tugging of the horses pulling the carriage. His hand grabbed mine and held it, squeezing my fingers slightly. I couldn't help but give the biggest smile.

"I love you, Erik." I whispered as I felt myself drift into a slumber I knew I wasn't going to come out of for the next few minutes. I wanted him to know. I wanted him to realize I do everything for him, and only him.

"I love you also, Nathalie. But, I must ask why that gentleman was there in your home. It looked like he didn't belong to your mother. He was far too young." He began, he looked at me and then looked away and back to the horses.

"My mother is trying to put me in an arranged marriage. He, I don't know, forget it. I'm not marrying, that's for sure." I said, now awake for this topic. I looked out the window and watched as the buildings were passing us, snow and ice covering them. It wasn't even Christmas yet and already the snow was beginning to come down hard.

I began to think of that word: marriage. What was it but a piece of paper binding you to someone and saying that you have to obey them for the rest of your life. A man was now given the power over you to make you do what he wants, make you cook, clean, have sex, birth children over and over again. I thought of my mother. How could she ever do that? I knew that Henry, the last husband I remember, being so sweet to my mother in front of guests but, when it came to being alone and in their room or whenever they thought I wasn't around, he would scream at her and the sound of his hand hitting her flesh made me cringe. What had she ever seen in him?

I shook my head and sighed, looking up at Erik. He had his mind concentrating on something and I was too afraid to ask.

"Mademoiselle, did you know him?" He asked me. He didn't look at me, never taking his eyes off the road.

"No, I have never seen him before in my life. He is from Greece, where my father is from though. My mother wanted to me to marry him so that my 'royal blood' could mean something." I said, turning my head away from him and looking back at the buildings and homes.

"Royal blood?" He asked, looking down at me. His green eyes were so vibrant even though it was so dark this night.

"Yes, I am the Duke's daughter. Marrying a Prince, like Klaudios, would ensure me life in wealth and happiness for his family."

"Would you really want that? To marry for money? For him?"

"Never! I do not like men like that! Who flaunt all of their wealth for the world to see! I make fun of men like that, and I detest all proposal's from men like him. I know that I am of royal blood but, that doesn't mean that I want to be shown off as such. It's nice to know that I am who I am and not having to deal with the things that the royal's do." I sighed, situating my legs because they were beginning to fall asleep.

"So, you wouldn't marry for money but, for happiness and love?" He asked, looking back to the horses as we rounded the corner so the Opera Populaire was now visible.

I didn't answer right away. I was looking up at the Opera and how amazing it looked in the middle of the night. The stars were glowing around it as if it were a lone candle in the night and they were little fireflies floating around it. "No, that is what I want: love and happiness. Nothing else. Money doesn't matter to me unlike my mother." I said as we stopped behind the large building.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, opening the door and looking at the grand building.

"This is where I live, Nathalie. I have always lived here." He said, smiling a tad and grabbing my two suitcases and walking over to the edge of the building. I followed and recognized the stairs. I looked up at Erik and out of nowhere, his lips were on mine, kissing me with such passion. I brought my hands up and caressed his face, relishing in the warmth of his lips and the hotness of his mouth.

Little did we know, we were being watched. And the man watching us would soon bring Hell into our lives.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Tell me how you liked or hated it! I wanna know! Thanks again, guys!**


	5. Chapter Four: Destroying Memories

**Author's Note: Hello my lovely and most amazing readers! I have supplied you with another chapter that I know you will love... hopefully. Anyways, just as a forewarn, I am Greek, half. If, at all I do not put a little '*' to show you what it says, definitely kill me. ANYWAYS! Going to thank Niikkii95 for reviewing (you're so right, Hell is _never_ good, haha!), Dark Angel 792 for adding for their favs (cuz who doesn't love favorites? =]), and ConGarzia and BVBForever13 for adding this story to their alerts. Alright! Done with the thanking, on with the show!**

**Disclaimer: **Blah, blah, blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Blah, blah, blah

**Chapter Four: Destroying Memories**

"Nai, gnorízo tin akriví tous thési tóra.*" Said a large burly man hiding in the shadows, he gloved hands cupped against his mouth as he tried to heat them up with his hot breath. His brown eyes and bald head were staring as they watched the two targets walk down a flight of stairs and seemed to disappear from sight.

He raised a large, thick brow and coughed. He hit his chest with a fist as if to break up the mucus that was suffocating him. He looked over to his left and saw the scrawny little man slack against the wall, his hands in between his thighs as if his cock was a heater.

"Why is it so god damn cold?" Said the scrawny man, shaking his head and letting a layer of snow fall from his brown hair. He looked up to the burly man for an answer.

"I don't know. All I know is that if I want to sleep in a warm bed and eat actual food, we're gonna have to do this for the Boss."

"This is so stupid! Why couldn't the Boss do this himself?" He said grudgingly. He huffed and watched as another snowflake caught in his curly brown hair. "Shit! Even the snow is trying to get warm! They're clinging to me for dear life! Stupid snow," he said, kicking at the white fluff that surrounded his feet.

"I would kill to be at the beaches right now with seven gypsies and ten women cooking for me and feeding me by hand." Said the large man as he closed his eyes and began to daydream.

"Well, isn't that what we're here to do?" Snickered the scrawny man as he stood up, pulling a picture out of his pocket.

A young woman was smiling and her raven black hair silently floated behind her as she sat on a bench in some sort of park in the spring time, it looked like. Her icy blue eyes broke all concentration anywhere else and commanded every person who looked at the pictures' attention. A small golden butterfly had been flying in the sky right above her, near the apple tree that stood proudly in the back; it's crimson red apples were begging those to come and pick them.

"Yeah, but, we're only scouting. Once the Boss gives us the go ahead," he chuckled as he remembered what his boss had said.

"She'll be ours," the scrawny man whispered as he held the picture in front of the burly man.

"And anyone in our way," the burly man nodded at the picture and looked back to the staircase.

"Will die a most painful death." They ended together, reciting the words their boss had said earlier.

…

"I've been living here all this time? Oh, my God!" I shouted, spinning around in the underground lair. My ballet slippers had fallen off of my heels and as I spun, the cape I had began to flow around me.

Though, when I came to a halt, my hair whipped against my flush and excited face, looking at Erik who had dropped his cape onto the floor so ungracefully. I ran over to him, grabbing him by his shoulders and felt his muscles tense from such a surprising touch.

"Will you take me to the stage? Please? I have only seen it once." I smiled the most innocent smile I could, even though it might have looked very weird.

A small chuckle sounded through his throat. "Change into something clean and I will take you as soon as you are finished." He gave a small smile and I clapped my hands together, turning around and running over to the two suitcases, flipping the locks off and throwing the tops back.

I searched for something very informal and pulled out a long black skirt and a light blue cashmere sweater. I looked down at the suitcase and began to think; I own only long skirts and cashmere sweaters. "Hmmm," I sighed, closing the tops and walking into the large stoned bathing room.

I changed quickly and washed my face with the cold water sitting on a stand in a corner. I looked up at the mirror and watched as the water trickled down my face and dripped back down to the bowl from my chin. Each drop sounded through-out the room, echoing in an eerie way. I rubbed my hands over my face again, letting my hands rest on my cheeks and watching the wrinkles and very small lines that I hadn't noticed before. I pulled my face back towards my ears, watching as my pink lips stretched and the skin begin to chap.

I let go, watching the skin retake its shape and fall back into place. I looked to my forehead and scrunched my eyebrows down, then up. I stared at the lines that were forming then disappearing from sight but, to me, they were still there. I looked to my hair and ran my fingers through, letting the fine black strands fall where they may.

How could Erik look at me? I mean, look at how old I was. He must not even be thirty and here I was, twenty-six and having no career, no children, no husband and no house to clean. I sighed and dropped my head, looking down into the water and the silver of the bowl. I placed my hands in it, cupping the water and watching the water ripple from the movement. Everything had their consequences; the water and my hands to the anger and frustration showing on my face and aging me beyond what I truly was.

No man will ever love me, not even Erik. I see the way he looks at me. His eyes are so distant even though I imagine them loving me with their full potential. They were gone, as if they had seen the light then once the light left, so did the brightness in his gorgeous green eyes. Those eyes told a story and I wanted to know it, and begging might push him away. If only I could somehow open up to me, I'd-

"Nathalie?" His voice startled me and his large hand made me jump from my spot, tossing the water that was in my hands, now fly into the air and mostly on his face and dress shirt.

"Oh, Erik! I'm so sorry! You scared me!" I whispered out, walking back over to him and grabbing the dirty cashmere sweater I wore, I wiped off as much water as I could from his clothes before they could soak in.

He let out a small laugh and grabbed my wrists. I looked up at him, watching him through my icy blue eyes, searching again for anything. "It's quite alright. I had thought you might have fallen asleep and I wanted to check on you." He said, his lips pulled into a gorgeous smile.

"Y-Yes, I'm alright. Well, I was until you scared me but, that was just me in my own world." I smiled and grabbed the black skirt from off the floor, walking away from Erik and out of the bathing room and back into the large room and over to the swan bed.

I folded the clothing and placed them next to the metal bed, turning to step into the ballet slippers I had just worn. They were so cold! A large shiver went through my whole body, giving me geese flesh and the small hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention.

"Are you ready?" His low voice asked. He stood in a cream coloured dress shirt and black dress pants. He smiled at me as I nodded, turning towards him and walking with him to a gondola sitting at the edge of a set of stairs and climbed in, ready to go experience the Opera Populaire first hand with someone dear to my heart.

…

The big burly man looked at his twig-of-a-man cohort. He was shaking in his small coat and his hands were now shoved deep into his thick wool pants. The skinny man looked to the burly one.

"What? I'm fucking cold!" He hissed, turning his face away from the laughing man. "Oh man, what I wouldn't do for a hot and sandy beach."

"Oh, shut your trap, Edio. There is no use in complaining. We're just going to go in, look around and leave. From there, we get warmed up from a couple of Parisian women." A dark chuckle escaped his lips as he pulled them back to show a large set of rotting teeth.

"How much longer then? I'm freezing out here." He spit out, his teeth chattering had butchered every word he said.

"Ten minutes,"

…

His hand was securely wrapped around mine, pulling me along lovingly as we traveled through catacombs and tunnels until we had reached a door. It had only taken us a few minutes to travel through labyrinth, a myriad of twists and turns began to give me a headache and yet, here we were, standing still in front of this door.

I looked at him, the masked side of his face only showing itself to me. I held my other hand out, wanting to touch him, to make him feel alright.

"E-Erik?" I whispered, letting my hand guide itself to his shoulder, feeling his muscles tense.

He never replied, only sliding the door open to reveal a dark room that smelled of moth balls and dust. I looked up at him and he ushered me in, making sure that I avoided tripping on the wood railing that housed the sliding door. Yet, once I stepped inside the room, it felt dead, as if something dreadful had happened and no one could or _would_ do anything about it.

My fingers traced the vanity to my left, letting the dust gather on my porcelain hand. I created a trail around the many different objects on it: a hairbrush, a box filled with make-up or possibly jewelery, a tiny picture frame and a small box that held papers. I took each step carefully yet, once something crunched underneath my feet, I screamed.

I jumped up and ran over to Erik who, being so quiet in his steps, had moved and in the darkened room, was no longer able to find.

"Erik?" I called out, walking back over to the vanity and looking at the floor to see what I had stepped on. Expecting to find the cockroach, a crushed red rose greeted my strained eyes. I grabbed the steam, admiring the work in taking off the thorns so carefully. I pulled it up to my face, examining it and watching as the cracked pieces of petal began to drift to the floor, a few landing on my skirt. A black silk ribbon was tied around the stem and as I looked closer, a beautiful little bow graced it.

I smiled, standing up and looking around at it, turning it all sorts of ways to see anything else. I knew it was dead, that much was obvious but, how long had this rose been lying underneath the vanity? It wasn't hidden, that was for sure because my foot didn't reach all the way back. It had had a layer of dust until I picked it up and watched as it miraculously cleaned itself off. Had it wanted to be seen? Had it wanted to be picked up by me? And where is Erik?

I turned my head side to side, looking for the man. He was no where to be found and I sighed. I placed the rose on the vanity and watched as the colour had died out in its bloom. I shook my head and headed for a large set of doors. My hands grabbed the handles and turned one, opening the large heavy door into a hallway going three directions: left, right and forward. I cleared my throat.

"Erik? Are you out here?" I asked the empty hallways. Clearly, if he had even opened the door, I would have heard. Such a stupid question to ask. I shook my head and walked out of the room, traveling to the right and once I saw how dark and dangerous it looked, I spun on my heels and walked right on back to the doors. I stared ahead, looking down the large hall that looked like it had led to a wall of crimson red but, the wall looked weird and my instincts to go and see what it was urged me to stay behind.

I was arguing with myself, literally. I stood there at the doors, holding onto the handle and cursing up a storm trying to tell myself that there was nothing wrong and to stop being such a baby and go over there. Yet, once that argument was done, another would start, trying to talk me out of it. I shook my head and nodded along with what argument was speaking until in my mind, I knew that if I didn't go down that hallway right now, I'd never be able to go again.

So, with that in mind, I walked away from the door and stood tall and with my skirt in my hands, holding it up so my feet would be seen, I ran down the hallway. I passed sets of stairs and rooms and all sorts of outfits that were ridiculous looking until I came up to the red wall, running through it only to see it as a curtain and falling onto the wood flooring.

I lay there, not quietly but laughing. I began to laugh as I realized I was still alive. I rolled over to my back, looking up to see a large mural painted on the ceiling. I began to quiet down, looking up at the lovely painting still held well on the roof. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, looking as the cherubs held onto their small bows and arrows and had taken into circling around the circular ceiling. I looked away and over to the right only to see something I hadn't in eighteen years.

The red velvet chairs, the crystal chandelier and the top balcony that housed the weak, wooden chairs the poor would sit in if ever they were allowed.

"Enjoying your tour?" A deep voice called out into the large auditorium.

I turned my head and picked myself off, dusting off the remnants of old. "Yes, quite." I smiled walking to the center of the stage and looked at the chandelier that was situated in the seats, now a guest to a show that would never be performed for just him.

"Everything is absolutely beautiful. I remember everything looking so magnificent as the first day I had seen it." I smiled, turning around to see the stage set with a large backdrop of a moon shining upon a lake, surrounded by forests and little sprites.

"How can you call this 'beautiful'? Don't you see what is in front of you?" He asked, standing up in an opera box nearest to the stage.

"Because it is. Everything is exactly what I remembered it to be." I smiled again, a large grin plastered onto my face.

I heard his footsteps cross the stage and I knew he was headed towards me. I waited for him to take me in his arms and to spin me around so that I may nuzzle in his neck and breathe in that smell which was so indescribable. But, it never came, only a cold hand placed itself on my shoulder and turned me to face him and look into the eyes of a man I didn't know.

"Erik?" I asked, reaching out for his face, only to have my hand caught in his.

"Look around you," he seethed, his face drawing closer to mine and his hot breath spilling over my face.

"I have; everything here is amaz-"

"NO! Look around you! Everything is dead!" He shouted at me, spinning me around to see the auditorium once again. And this time, it looked completely different.

The chandelier that had been sitting so gracefully in the seats looked as if it were dead, holding onto the burned ash that lay beneath it, crying to the chairs and begging them to come back. The red velvet of the seats was gone, leaving the metal structuring open for all to see. I looked up to the ceiling, hoping that the cherubs wouldn't be harmed yet, they were burned, black and lifeless. The ceiling cracked and the snow falling so depressed down to the top part of the now crushed balcony. The whole middle section, destroyed. A fire had burned off the area, leaving seats upturned and burned coats strayed across the railing.

Erik turned us around to look at the stage and I couldn't believe my eyes. Large wooden beams were cockeyed and burned, leaving red, orange and yellow curtains blowing ever so gently in the freezing breeze. I became cold and realized that the warmth I had felt was unreal, only a memory.

"Only a memory," I whispered, pulling my hands to my face and letting out the tears that were forcing themselves out.

"A memory now dead," he whispered into my ear, letting it run through my body, letting it become limp in his grasp. He held onto me, turning me away from all the damage and into him, letting me soak up the heat and radiance of his body.

"This was the fire... the fire that ended it all," I said, my hands grabbing onto the cream dress shirt. My red-rimmed eyes was looking back into the audience, the once glorious room I had the most vivid memories of. Everything that I had seen was all a lie and a memory so imprinted in my mind that it refused to see the horror and death that had now taken over.

"Sing to me," I asked, closing my eyes and feeling Erik's arms close around me, holding me against his strong chest.

"What would you like me to sing, mademoiselle?" His chest reverberated against my face, letting me smile as I begged to hear it and feel it once more.

"The song that Christine Daae sang when I had come to the Opera Populaire for the first and last time." I sighed against him, feeling his body tense and unravel as I held onto him.

"Another song, Nathalie." He said, and I nodded, letting my mind wonder over the few songs I had heard in the once magnificent opera.

I opened my eyes and smiled, my cheek pressed hard against his chest.

"_He put it on me, I put it on, like there was nothing wrong_

_It didn't fit, it wasn't right, wasn't just the size_

_They say, 'you know when you know'_

_But I don't know.._" I took in a breath and let my body relax against Erik, letting myself mold into his shape.

"_I didn't feel the fairytale feeling, no..._

_Am I a stupid girl for even dreaming that I could?_" I felt Erik's arms hug me tighter, his head resting on mine as I tried to continue my song.

"_If it's not like the movies, that's how it should be_" Erik sang back, letting my grip tighter to his chest, feeling and relishing in it's warmth.

"_When he's the one, I'll come undone_

_And the world will stop spinning_

_And that's just the beginning..._" I looked up at him, watching as he took back his head.

"My world has stopped spinning, Erik. Maybe this _is_ the beginning." I said, watching as he smiled the most gorgeous smile he had ever given me. His lips were pulled back so far and his white teeth brilliantly shined through the darkness in which we stood.

…

They were inside, searching through clothes and sheets of paper with random markings. Edio and Markus were looking through everything their dirty hands could grab and toss. Even though they didn't throw anything, they did sort through the privacy of their targets.

"Hey, look at this," Edio called out, his skinny arms stretched out so that his partner could look at his finding.

"Hmm, you think the Boss would understand that?" Markus asked, taking it his hands and reading over it, looking over the words.

"If he doesn't, then I don't know what'll make him happy," Edio sighed, sifting through papers once more.

"Well, let's go. We've over-stayed our 'welcome'." A dark grin came over the large man's face.

Edio closed the drawer and walked behind Markus as they went through the door and back out into the blistering cold night air.

…

They jumped off their Percheron horses and walked up the lavish marble stairs to the grand patio that wrapped around the large manor. They opened the heavy black wood doors and dusted themselves off of the snow that had collected on their clothing and hair, for Edio.

They turned left and into the closed off study. With one large and hard knock, a voice sounded from inside, beckoning them to enter. They did as they were told and opened the black wood door of the study and entered the warm room their boss sat in.

"I assume you've brought me something of interest?" Their boss said in Greek, turning around to look at the two.

"Yes, we've found something you might be interested in." Markus walked forward, placing the lone paper on the desk, letting his boss look over the information.

A large smirk crossed the olive-skinned features and the dark amber eyes lit up with something so evil, even Markus began to take a few steps back. "Oh, you have done me well, gentlemen. Make sure the servants do whatever you want," he said, looking at the paper once more, his eyes traveling through the words and markings in a wild speed. "And when I say, 'whatever you want' I mean, whatever you want." A wicked grin crossed his lips as he turned back around and faced the roaring fire in the hearth, soaking up the information and the butterflies in his stomach.

He waited until he heard the door close to let out a laugh. He held his head with one hand a his laugh grew louder, much more deeper as he looked to a picture on the hearth. A little girl with raven hair and blue eyes held onto a young boy who was a little older. His blond curls sat upon his head as he held the young girl back. "You will be mine once again, Nathalie. I can assure you that." He let out another laugh, letting it echo in the large study.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thank you so much for reading this chapter! Hopefully, I'll make you suspicious of what is going to happen. EEK! So exciting!**

*_Yes, I know their exact location now._ (In Greek)

"Not like the Movies" by Katy Perry. BEST SONG EVER. Seriously.


	6. Chapter Five: Breaking In

**Author's Note: Wow! Thank you guys for all the reviews on the last chapter! Why Fireflies Flash, RedDeathLvr, CassieXSesshie4ever(and for adding this to your fav's, extra love!) and xandi412 (and thank you for adding this to your alerts, double love!) for reviewing! I'm so glad you all loved it!**

**This chapter is actually pretty close to my heart. I absolutely love it and now see it as my baby and the turning point of the story. So please, be gentle. So, on with the show!**

**Disclaimer:** Blah, blah, blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Blah, blah, blah...

**Chapter Five: Breaking** **In**

He carried me through the corridors of the opera house; taking me through curtains and cobwebs alike. I nuzzled my face into the nook of his neck and shoulder, feeling his heartbeat explode under his skin. I relished in it, feeling the chest slowly heave up and down with each breath he took in or let out. Each step he took sounded through-out the wood paneled walls and the wood flooring. It was a metronome going off in my ears, lulling me into slumber for the night.

A chime sounded through he halls and he stopped immediately. With a silent breath, he wordlessly hid me behind a large curtain hanging from the grand ceiling. His finger touched my lips, as if sealing them from ever opening and questioning what was happening.

A second chime sounded as quickly as the first had. Erik stood straight up, his eyes glued to a door down the corridor we were just in. With silent steps, he walked away from me. I poked my head out from behind the curtain, watching as he mutely walked towards the door.

A third chime sounded once more and Erik let out a deep and relieving sigh. He turned his head back to me, his hand beckoning me to go to him. I pressed myself off the floor, doing as he had silently requested. My eyelids were barely staying open and I yawned as I reached him, my arms wrapping around his torso.

A large bang echoed through the corridor and my heart dropped. I was now completely awake. I looked up at Erik, his jaw clenching tightly as he looked at the door I had exited out earlier.

"My lair," he whispered, grabbing my hand and running down the hall, dragging me along.

We entered the room, closing the large wooden doors and walked back into the hidden door in the mirror. Erik ushered me inside first, following closely behind as he pulled the mirror to a close. He pushed ahead of me, grabbing my hand once again and proceeded to the lair. He walked fast, pulling me into him so that I wasn't more than an inch away from his strong body.

As we descended the stone stairs leading down to the underground waterway, Erik gently picked me up, placing me on the seat of the gondola tied to the ledge of the stone walkway. Erik stepped in, pressing the long oar into the water to guide us back to the lair.

The sound of a door closing startled the both of us, especially Erik who looked as if he were debating with himself to dive into the water and swim instead. I looked away from his face and to the upcoming lair, seeing everything as normal as when we had left it. I stood up, grabbing my skirt in my hands and hiking it up to my knees, showing off the porcelain skin underneath.

As soon as the gondola was close enough, I jumped onto the stairs Erik neared. I fell to my hands but, used them to climb up the stairs to keep me steady. I stood tall once again and neared my trunks, seeing the latches unlocked. I opened the two suitcases and held my breath.

Erik's steps sounded and the sound of papers shuffling brought me out of my shock.

"Erik," I called out, on my knees still looking at the contents of my cases.

He only walked over as his acknowledgment and I nodded, knowing I wasn't going to get an answer right now.

I grabbed the picture that rested on top of my cashmere sweaters and I held it up for Erik to look at. His fingers barely grazed mine as he took the picture and examined it.

"Is this you?" His hoarse voice asked.

"Yes," I whispered, my heart in the middle of my throat. I slumped forward a tad, my hand on my neck, massaging it lightly trying to get rid of the lump stuck in there.

"Who took this?" He asked, his green eyes burning into me.

"My brother, the day before he was killed. It was my seventeenth birthday," I finished, looking at the stone wall where the cases were sitting against. Tears welled up in my eyes, blinding my vision with their burning desire to escape. I brought my hands up, wiping the tears away and scarping my cheeks roughly.

"I remember the headlines in the newspapers. It was blamed as a police 'mishap'," he sighed, letting the picture rest on my shoulder, letting me take it back.

I took it back, looking at the young girl in the picture, smiling profusely as he brother was trying to situate the large camera's stand...

…

"_Nathalie, stop moving, this takes a long time to warm up. Stay still." He laughed as I squirmed on the wooden bench in Jardin du Luxemburg. It had always been my favorite park to visit. The over-powering elm trees truly made those believe in knowing that the world was such a large place, making them feel like the tiny ant crawling across the blade of rich green grass surrounding the thick tree._

"_But why, Andrew? I'm seventeen! I am absolutely legal and I know," I gave him a wink as he was bent over and fixing one of the legs for the cameras stand. He looked at me with his dark blue eyes._

"_You know what exactly, little girl?" He gave a small laugh as he finally stood, his fists on his hips, eying the camera with suspicion._

"_I know, old man, that every man, young or old, will be flocking to me now, begging to take my hand in marriage. But you know what," I smiled as he looked at me, a small tug at his lips._

"_What, dear sister?" He asked, his head low with his eyes trying to scare me._

"_I won't take any of them! I'll be an old hag with twenty cats and thirty dogs and fifty-nine horses along with two hundred canaries alone somewhere out in Germany, high up in the black forest where no one knows me or will find me!" I laughed out loud, my head resting in the palms of my hands as I watched Andrew kneel again to fix the stand's leg._

"_I had always assumed you would be a high aristocrat, like our dear mother, and steal every man's heart, but always loving some man you could never really marry. He would be one: too old, two: very rich, or three: not in love with you but, in love with someone else." He smiled, three fingers held up to me as he showed me his options for my life._

_I blew it off, laying against the wooden bench as he 'a-ha'ed and stood up quickly, grabbing the black cloth on the back of the camera and hid under it. His hands waved in the air, trying to get my attention. "Okay! Smile!" He shouted, his hands trying to figure out where the button was._

_I kept myself still, looking away from the camera and away from Andrew's eyes._

"_Hey," I heard his voice next to me. His hand touched my knee and rubbed it. His face smiled up at me, gently provoking me to look at him._

_I turned my head to him and quickly looked away. "What?" I demanded, now not in the mood to have fun._

"_You know I was only joking, right? Those things won't happen, I promise. Now, come on. Where is that beautiful smile men flock to you for?" His hands grabbed the side of my face, turning it so that my icy blue eyes were looking into his dark ocean blues._

_I gave a small smile as he stood up, giving me a kiss on my forehead. "Alright then, kid. Let's get this picture taken and go home. I'm hungry!" He laughed, running a hand through his blonde curls. He stood behind the camera again, the cloth in his hands as he watched me pose. He smiled at me and ducked down, the cloth over his head._

"_Smile, my little Nightingale..."_

…

"Nightingale." I whispered, my fingers gripping onto the photo tightly.

"Hmm?" Erik questioned, his hand on my shoulder.

I shook off the last memory of my brother alive and looked up at Erik, giving him a shrug as I stood. "Have you checked your desk? Anything missing?" I asked, trying to get him on the subject of the things missing.

Erik shook his head and walked away, his hands rummaging through the papers in the drawers of his large oak desk. He squatted down, checking a bottom drawer and immediately stopped.

"Damn it," a whisper sounded silently.

I stood, walking over to where Erik was now sitting. I looked in the empty drawer. "They took everything?"

"No, just an important piece of paper." He sighed, pushing himself off the stone floors. As soon as he stood, his hands grabbed the front of his silk blouse, buttoning the two buttons close and grabbing the vest and coat hanging off the chair behind him.

"Just one piece of paper? Why did you only have one piece of paper in such a large drawer?" I asked, my eyebrow raising as I watched him dress.

"Because that one piece of paper held a lot of information," he quickly said, turning around and grabbing a large and thick cloak off the wall.

"What kind of information?" I pressed, wanting answers, wanting him to open up. _Open up, Erik! Please, trust me!_, my thoughts shouted wildly through my head, deafening all sounds with their pleas.

"Information about you."

What?

I stood still, my lips parted as he looked on at me, watching as I stood as still as a statue. My heart rate dropped and my knees were giving in; but, my paralyzed body wasn't responding, not letting me fall ungracefully to the floor.

Erik must have noticed this. His hands grabbed my shoulders, giving me a small shake to bring me back to reality. "Mademoiselle, listen. That information on that one sheet of paper could either destroy you or protect you." His eyes looked into my lifeless blues, trying to figure out any type of emotion that would circulate through them. "Nathalie?"

"_Nathalie?"_

My brother's voice sounded through my head, waking me from the black abyss of subconsciousness. I looked at Erik now, thoughtful of him being there.

"I must leave. Please, do not travel anywhere. When I come back, I will not knock but, open the door. If anyone knocks, and I mean _anyone_, do not open the door. Please." Erik pleaded, his hands taking my face.

"For me, Nathalie."

"_For me, Nathalie."_

My brother's voice echoed through my mind again, his smile haunting me as I looked at Erik.

Erik's eyes searched my face, darting back and forth, looking for any sign of acknowledgment. He sighed, bringing his lips onto mine.

My eyes opened as shock as the heat between our lips grew. I closed my eyes, melting into his sweet lips.

He pulled away as soon as I settled into him. "I'll be back. I promise." He kissed the top of my head as I watched him leave for the hidden door, opening it and closing it shut.

And so, here I sat, alone again in a cold place. My knees had given out as soon as he walked out. I was trying go grab for air, begging for it to inflate my lungs.

"Oh, Andrew, what do I do?"

…

I sat on the stage, watching as the hole in the roof allowed the sun to begin to shine in. It started slowly, letting the dark purples and blues first penetrate the empty and abandoned auditorium. Then, dark magenta and red began to shine through, allowing colour to finally take hold of the place where I sat in. I looked up at the opening, watching as the stars began to recede and blend in with the dark blue, orange and magenta sky. They were trying to outshine the sun but, they were refused by the huge ball of fire, slowly creeping up over the houses of the city of Paris.

I let out a sigh and looked around, seeing the burned chairs and cobwebs strategically placed about the grand room. I stood, turning back to the stage area to return to the lair. As I walked through the room and into the mirror, I felt the cold chill of night still lingering through the air. I grabbed onto my shoulders and rubbed them to get rid of the goosebumps appearing on my skin.

I quietly made my way down to the stone ledge and the steady stream of water. I climbed into the gondola and began to row back to the lair. My hair fell into my face, the oil in it leaving me rubbing my face wildly. I sighed as I realized I would have to bathe as soon as I got back.

As I neared the edge of the stairs where the gondola was parked last time, I tied it off. I stepped out, walking to the left and into the bathing room. I stripped myself of the dirty clothing and walked to the stone bath tub. I looked in, seeing it empty. I peered over to the other side, looking at two cold buckets of water sitting next to it. I bravely stepped in, grabbing one bucket and dumping it slowly over my body, allowing the ice cold water to beat on me with their tiny knives. I shivered, grabbing the scented oil and gritty sand and rubbing it in my hands, then applying it to my hair, allowing the sand to scratch the oils and impurities out of my scalp.

I grabbed the second bucket and slowly washed my hair out, making sure all sand was gone before I began to work on my body.

All the oil and sand finally left my body as I washed it off and stepped out, drying myself with my black skirt lying on the floor. I looked around for a towel and failed to find one. I grabbed my sweater and bunched it along with my skirt and held it against my body as I opened the bathing room's door and walked out.

I climbed the stairs and walked over to the swan bed, taking a long nightgown from a suitcase and holding it up, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in the soft silk. I slipped it on, my arms falling into the sleeves and my head fitting through the neckline made of lace. The soft pink lace paired nicely with the cream silk and the individual pearls sewn into the lace. It was burning up now and I pulled the long skirt up, showing off the entire portion of my legs as I tied it off with the ribbon sewn in from the inside.

I turned around and met the light green eyes watching me the whole time.

"Erik..." I mouthed, my voice unable to work.

"Mad-mademoiselle." He stuttered, looking at my body as I stood still next to the lace curtain surrounding the circular bed.

"H-how long have you been here?" I asked, undoing the ribbon and letting the long dress drop down to cover my ankles.

"Long enough." He answered quietly, taking in all of me.

I looked down and realized for the first time since wearing this gown, it was almost see-through. My nipples burned slightly as the skin around them tightened, making them bore through the almost already nude gown. I crossed my arms over my chest and felt the rush of blood swarm my face, making me take on the look of a tomato.

"I apologize, Erik. I didn't know you were here." I said honestly. I spun around and walked to the edge of the bed.

His footsteps made their way towards me and I held my breath, waiting for his hands to touch my shoulders, to pull me into his warm safe haven. I closed my eyes, ready for his touch.

I opened my eyes slowly, looking at Erik who stood on the other side of the swan bed as he shrugged out of his coat and vest. I let out my breath and looked down at the bed, pulling the back the red comforter. I looked back up at Erik who stood watching me, just standing there waiting and gazing at me.

"What?" I demanded, noticing my harsh tone. I gave him an apologetic look and he only gave a soft smile.

Erik walked around the bed and towards me. He paused, looking into my eyes as his fingers traced from my jawline down my neck and down my shoulders. I closed my eyes, sighing against his palm as he brought it back up to my face.

His free hand had traced my collarbone, his rough fingers tickling the hollow area in between my neck. I brought my hands to his chest, feeling once again the muscles hidden under the silk blouse. I let my hands glide up his body, relishing in the chest waiting to breathe in my warm breath. I opened the first three buttons and let the shirt hang open.

I my fingers slide in, softly moving around under my soft hands. I gave a small smile as I felt his heart beat frantically under the skin.

His hands pulled at the sleeves of my gown, pulling them away from my shoulders. I looked at him and he just kept his eyes glued to mine, never looking away. I swallowed and allowed the removal of the gown, letting it be pulled off my still wet body. My damp hair fell to my back, the cold strands bringing the goosebumps back. I gasped as I felt them surge through my body. Erik took this as a sign and began to back away.

I shook my head, grabbing his blouse and pulling him back, much closer this time. I didn't let go of his shirt. I held on for dear life, feeling his large hands take place on my shoulders, soothing out the goosebumps that had formed. He let my hands unbutton the shirt even more; I pulled the silk from the inside of his black trousers, finally letting it fall and undoing the last remaining buttons.

I spread open the shirt, looking at the body of a god. I lost my breath for a moment. I was brought back as he pulled my face up with his hands, gently kissing my lips as if I were made of glass and he were a large rock about to break the perfect material he was loving.

I ran my hands up his shoulders, letting one finally grasp onto the back of his neck, holding him against me so he wouldn't pull away like last time. I melted into him, feeling him trying to hold back. I opened my eyes for a moment, watching as his face held a painful look. I pulled away, watching as his eyes opened. I looked to the white mask and touched it, only to have my hand grabbed.

I shook my head, assuring him I wasn't going to do what he thought I was going to do. I let my other hands touch his shoulder from under his blouse, moving it off as I glided down his soft arms, feeling the muscles. He pressed his lips against mine once more, letting the sweetness penetrate his guard, allowing him to take in the moment before him.

I let him wrap his arms around my body, pulling me into him. His hands held my back, the scar-infected skin being held so tenderly, I almost felt like they weren't there at all. I pulled off the silk blouse finally, his hands only leaving my back so I could take it off. I dropped the shirt to the stone flooring, at last feeling the hot back of the man in front of me.

His skin so silky smooth, I felt as if this were a dream being played out. A dream of all my desires and wants being exploited, making me curse myself for thinking of this so that it too, may haunt me. I wish this wasn't a dream though; please, God, don't let this be a dream, don't let this be a tease for thinking of a man in this way. It feels so real.

I felt his arousal press against the lower part of my stomach. I pulled out of his kiss and looked down, seeing the prominent arousal try to escape the confides of it's 'cage'. I looked back up to him and, with a large swallow, I smiled.

"I'm sorry," he said, pulling away from me and trying to turn. My hands held steady onto his arms, keeping him in the same position. His face was turned away, the mask only showing itself to me. I pulled him close again, taking his face in my hands as he did to me and locked eyes.

With a saddened look from him, I shook my head, smiling. "Don't be sorry. Please," I begged him, grabbing his hands and pulling them to the top of my chest, allowing his hot and sweaty hands to touch my hot skin. "I am just a nervous as you are," I whispered, looking down at his stomach, seeing the trail of hair travel down and hiding in the security of the black trousers. I placed my hands there, hearing him gasp as my hands followed the hair downwards and then back up again. I let my hands guide along to the small of his back, feeling the detail of his proud muscles.

His hands moved downwards, cupping my breasts. I could hear his heart beat out of his chest, his life about to end if it began to beat harder and faster. I took in a sharp breath as he kneaded my breasts tenderly, living in the soft skin. He grabbed my rosebud nipples in between his fingers, rubbing them and sending streams of fire through my body, making me moan softly.

He heard them and he gave a soft smile, taking my lips in his once again. I let my arms surround his neck as he left my breasts, his fingers slowly undoing the button of his pants, letting them fall down, allowing the caged arousal free to breathe. I never looked down and I kept my eyes closed as his hands took to my body again, rubbing the smooth skin of my sides and stomach.

He reached down and with one sweeping motion, placed me on the bed, our kiss never broken. His tongue and mine dancing so intimately, creating their own dance for only the two of us to know. Our breathing became one as he lay his body on top of mine, his hands at the side of my head, holding himself up so his body weight wouldn't fall on top of me.

I brought my knees up, surrounding his body as he lay within them. He deepened the kiss, his hand cupping the back of my head, tilting it to the side as he broke our kiss, taking my neck and jaw as his new hostage. No harm was done to the porcelain skin but, the burning want of him was breaking me. I wanted to make love with him and I want it to only be him, forever.

I felt the slightest nip at my neck and a moan escapes my throat. His hot body lay against mine as he breathes heavily on my neck, just breathing on my neck.

"Mademoiselle," Erik whispered, his hot breath running through my hair and into my ear, once again releasing goosebumps and producing another quiet moan.

"Yes, Erik?" I ask, breathing heavily as he does nothing, his arousal still holding steady against my womanhood, as if begging to be introduced to each other.

"I am a monster, please, do not allow this for the means of pleasure but," he paused, his voice quivering as he whispered into my ear.

I lay my hands on his back, feeling the sweat decorating his tanned skin. I bring my hands up and under his arms, my hands gripping onto his shoulders. Erik looked into my eyes, his darting back and forth as he tried to search for the answer to the question he hadn't even asked.

"But, please, do it for the love of me." He whispered.

I gave a small smile and kissed him.

"_Take time to realize, that your warmth is crashing down on me._

_Take time to realize, that I'm on your side._

_Didn't I, didn't I tell you._" I sang to him, feeling the tension in his arms slowly disappear.

He kissed my cheek and my neck, his breath grazing my porcelain skin once again.

"_But, I can't spell it out for you_

_I know it's never going to be that simple._

_No, I can't spell it out for you._" He sang back, his tenor voice so romantic in the way to harmonize with nothing in the room, making it feel like a whole chorus was singing back.

"_If you just realize what I just realized then we'd be_

_Perfect for each other and we'll never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized,_

_We'd never have to wonder if we missed out on each other now._" We sang in harmony, our lips close to touching yet, so far away it felt like. Every word so true, so perfect. If only he would realize my love for him would everything be okay, I know it.

"_It's not the same, no it's never the same_

_If you don't feel it too._

_If you meet me halfway, if you would meet me halfway,_

_It could be the same for you._" I sang back to him quietly. My voice almost not even producing a sound. I want him to know that I am here, I am willing to love him as he _could_ love me. Love me.

"_If you just realize what I just realized, then we'd be_

_Perfect for each other and we'll never find another_

_Just realize what I just realized_

_We'd never have to wonder..._" We sang together again, our eyes never leaving each other.

Erik took my face in his hand and rubbed my cheek with his thumb, rubbing away the small tear that had escaped.

"_You tell me you're in love with me_

_Like you can't take your pretty eyes away from me_

_It's not that I don't want to stay_

_But, every time you come too close, I move away._" Erik sang, his voice soft as he pulled himself off of my body, bringing me with him as we sat on the bed, my face in his hands as his lips gently kissed my jawline.

"_I want to believe in everything you say, because it sounds so good_

_But if you really wanted me, move slow._

_There's things about me you just have to know._" He sang quietly, his lips having left my jaw to look me in the eyes. Taking both of my hands in his, he placed them on his chest, letting me feel the heartbeat raging out of control.

"_Sometimes I run, sometimes I hide._

_Sometimes I'm scared of you, but all I really want_

_Is to hold you tight, treat you right,_

_Be with you day and night,_

_Darling, all I need is time._" He ended, taking my face in his hands once again, almost devouring my lips with his, letting us fall back to the bed once more so that he was on top of me. His manhood beckoned to enter the warm and tender love of my body.

I looked into his eyes. "I love you,"

He finally loved me.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sooooo... getting a little steamy up in this underground lair for Monsieur Phantom! Qui qui!  
>Lmao, anyways... 'Realize' by Colbie Calliet and 'Sometimes' by Britney Spears are definitely not owned by me but, Erik and Nathalie definitely seem to own them in this chapter.<strong>

**REVIEW AND TELL ME HOW MUCH YOU LOVED (or hated, it's okay) IT! **


	7. Chapter Six: Making Plans

**Author's Note: So, this totally came up faster than expected. I WAS SO SAD TO NOT HEAR FROM: RedDeathLvr, Niikkii95 and xandi412. I am totally sad. ='( See? Totally sad face. But! I wanna show my love for CassieXSesshie4ever and Why Fireflies Flash! Thanks guys so much!  
>I know last chapter was pretty sexy and hot, well, not really hot but, sweet. It really was. For Erik and Nathalie's first time together, I wanted to really make every sound, sight and experience one to remember but, it may have been too detailed. So, sorry for that. But, whatever! Let's get to the story! Please review guys! It really means a lot!<strong>

**Disclaimer:** Blah, blah, blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Blah, blah, blah...

**Chapter Six: Making Plans **

He held the paper in his hand, examining it so carefully as if he were touching a small baby bird. A frown set in his face, taking in the paper into his fist and balling it up, sending it into the fireplace in front of him. The paper caught fire quickly, blackening and withering away into ash to join the burning wood. He turned around in his chair, his eyes set on the picture on the hearth that held the picture of the two young children from so long ago.

"Aftós prókeitai na tin kánei éna astéri,"* he whispered, his teeth clenched together, grinding against each other.

"Your highness," Markus called in Greek as he walked in the study.

"What?" His harsh tone stopping Markus in his tracks.

Markus rubbed the letter in his thick, grimy hands, pondering if it was a good idea to give this to him now.

"Speak now, Markus!" He shouted, done with the moron's silence.

Markus placed the letter on the large wooden desk. He turned away, closing the door after him.

He turned around, looking at the newest edition to the collection of papers and letters that were neatly stacked on the desk. Yet, this didn't fall into a file, no. This letter sat alone, commanding attention from all. He raised a brow, his hand reaching for the letter. As soon as his tanned hand claimed it, he felt the coldness of it and the outstanding quality of the envelope.

Labeled for his eyes only, he brought it to his face, examining the writing on the front. _'Prince Klaudios'_, it read, the cursive regal in it's black ink. He turned it over, looking at the back. His eyes widened as he saw the red wax skull holding the letter shut.

"Ridiculous," he whispered as he slid his finger under the flap and moved it over, ripping the skull from the silky stock paper. He pulled out the note and tossed the envelope back on the desk, his attention solely on the note he held.

_'Devout Prince, I am well aware of your servants ruining my home with their disgusting hands. I know of the letter you have taken also. If you wish to remain in good graces of the world you believe you live in, do not do as the letter asks. Keep your worries and troubles away from Nathalie, she is in good hands._

_Sincerely, Opera Ghost_

_P.S. I am always watching.'_

The prince looked up from the letter and out the large window. The dark crimson curtains pulled away so he may look out.

He dropped the letter from his hands as the white mask turned away from the window and disappeared from sight, melding into the slow-falling snow.

He jumped up, his fists crashing down on the desk. He ran towards the doors of his study and tossed them open, turning to the large black wooden doors. As he opened the two heavy doors, a black horse was fleeing, a man in a long black cape sat upon the large creature.

He was enraged as the white mask showed a glimmer once more as it looked back, mocking him for he could do nothing now. He slammed another fist into the door, the loud bang echoing through the mansion and the now silent front yard.

"Prince Klaudios, are you alright?" A lone maid asked, having heard the banging and slight yelling from her master.

With a sharp turn of his head, he glared at her, his eyes burning with amber eyes looked almost gold with the fire igniting behind them.

The servant shrank away, huddling herself away from the maddened Prince. She began to slink away, her heart racing in her tiny body.

The Prince looked away and back out into the dark snow outside. The sound of the horse galloping was now gone, his mind now racing to the man Nathalie was with before. He took in a large breath, calming his rattled nerves. As he closed the doors, and locked them, he turned to the maid, giving her a soft smile.

"My apologies, Rhachel. I saw something that frightened me." He took one of her hands and gave it a light squeeze.

"Would you like for me to bring you some hot tea?" She asked, now calm as her master settled.

"That would be lovely." He said, walking towards his study once more. "By the way, where is the Palais Garnier?" His voice low as he looked to the servant turning back around to answer him. "It houses the Paris Opera House, does it not?"

She nodded. "Yes, Monsieur. It is the grand building on Place de l'Opera. You can't miss it." She gave a sweet smile as she turned once more to fetch his tea.

Klaudios nodded, turning into his office and closing the doors. He walked to the corner of the room, farthest from his desk and grabbed the newspaper sitting on a red velvet chair. He quickly obtained a dark smirk as he read it carefully.

"Décès deun amant. ," he whispered. "Death of a Lover."

…

"Death of a Lover?" I asked, drying my hair with a large towel. "Sounds a tad tragic, no?" I walked over to Erik as he sat at his desk, his hands lightly grazing the thick stock paper in front of him.

He sat only in his black trousers, a sight I will always have imprinted on my mind. I smiled privately and blushed openly.

"It's a _dramma tragico_, meaning 'tragic opera'. The auditions are this afternoon, actually." He said, turning to face me, a gleam in his eye.

I raised a brow at him and took a step back. "I'm not auditioning."

Erik laughed loudly, pushing the chair back and standing up, walking over to me. He stood a few inches taller than me and those green eyes were displaying his authority.

"Yes, you are." He gave a small smirk as he ran his fingers over my cheek. I breathed heavily and closed my eyes, loving the feeling.

My eyes snapped open. "Oh no, you cannot make me fall for that with your magic tricks, Monsieur!" I gave a small laugh, trying to keep my stern glare.

"Oh no? Are you sure, mademoiselle?" He spun me around quickly, taking me in his arms and holding me close to his body as his lips kissed my exposed neck.

"You cannot make... me do it, Erik..." I breathed out, goosebumps traveling all through my body.

"Watch me."

…

"Mademoiselle André of Paris," a deep voice rang through the auditorium.

_'Damn you, Erik'_, I cursed silently as I stood from my chair in the audience, walking slowly towards the 'stairs of impending doom' as I loved to call them when I worked with what's-his-name. I silently hoped that man took good on his threat of never letting me perform ever again in Paris for walking out on his rehearsal. I haven't made it to the center spotlight so, hopefully there is still a chance for them to banish me also.

I walked even slower once my heel stepped onto the worn dark wooden stage. _'Please, please, please reject me'_, I prayed again, looking up into the rafters as if God were sitting up there watching me. Yet, no God was up there. Typical.

"Ah! Mademoiselle André!" The deep voice said again.

I turned my head sharply and looked into the audience, nothing but blackness. "Pardon, Monsieur?"

"It is me, Henry! Henry Boudreaux!" The voice said again, much happier this time.

I gave a light smile and walked to the front edge of the stage. A tall man with light red hair had walked up, the white hair now showing extensively. He was tall, able to look over the edge and not having to stand on tip toes.

"Oh, Henry!" I exclaimed, lowering to my knees to grab his out-stretched hands. "It's so good to see you again!" I gave the warmest smile I could, watching the older man in front of me.

"How is your dear mother? I haven't seen her since the divorce, I might add. Has she remarried?" He asked, taking a chair from the orchestra pit he was standing in and pulling it in front of him. With one leg up, he pushed himself so he was eye level with me as I sat on my knees.

Little whispers began sounding off through the audience, the other auditioners curious as to who in the world the manager was speaking to.

"I have seen her recently, only last night actually. She is doing well and no, she has not remarried. I believe you captured her wild heart, Monsieur."

"Oh, you hush now!" He smiled brightly, his yellowish teeth barely visible through his red and gray mustache. His stomach was larger, probably due to the fact that he hadn't eaten healthy over the last three years of having divorced from my mother. "Oh, and please don't call me 'Monsieur', it makes me feel old!" He said with a hearty laugh.

"Oh, Henry, it has been so good to see you again! How are you holding up?"

"Well-"

"AHEM!" A large cough came from the back, interrupting Henry.

"Oops. I seem to be taking up _someone's_ sweet and most important time. See me after the audition. I would love to talk more." He gave another smile before taking my hands and kissing the knuckles.

"Absolutely." I stood, a large blush over-coming my features for having had a whole discussion during auditions. I walked to the 'X' marked with chalk in the middle of the stage.

"Alright, Nathalie! Sing 'Mon coeur s'ouvre à ta voix' from Samson and Delilah, opera 47." Henry's voice sounded from the darkness.

I looked down and took in a few breaths, my nerves coming back. "D-Do you want me to start from the beginning?" I asked, my voice stuttering. I coughed to clear my nervous throat.

"The beginning, yes." He answered.

He must be watching me as I stand up here, looking up at the woman he had known since she was thirteen. I took in a deep breath and remembered what Erik had said: 'believe in yourself, make me proud'.

"Make me proud," I whispered. Looking up into the large spotlight placed on me. "I love you..." I mouthed, hoping he was somewhere in the building watching me.

I took in a deep breath, ignoring everything around me, focusing on the song I had learned only a few hours ago. As long as it had been, thankfully, it was in French and not German or Spanish. Thank God it wasn't in Spanish.

The sound I produced sounded so magnificently, I couldn't believe it was me. The piano Erik had played while back in the opera house had been playing through-out my head, making it easier for me to release the voice that was begging to escape. Never had I felt like this before. The powerful, yet gentle, lyrics vibrated in my throat, echoing off the walls in perfect harmony to nothing playing with it, allowing me to gain fully what was happening.

I paused, gathering a breath, starting again and feeling the rush of the euphoria sweep through my body as I took into the high octave and achieved the high note that had escaped me during rehearsal with Erik. I heard it with such beauty, my knees felt weak.

As I ended, nothing happened.

Nothing made a sound; _no_ _one_ made a sound.

I became a stiff board, my black hair falling slightly in my face. I slipped it behind my ear, hiding a slight blush staining my cheeks.

A clap sounded. Slowly, that clap became faster, adding gradually with others who joined in, applauding.

I looked around, hardly believing they were clapping for me.

"Brava, Brava, Bravissima!" Henry shouted, running up towards the stage, turning sharply and speeding up the stairs. He ran to me, his large figure grabbing onto me, spinning me around taking me in complete surprise. He spun me around on stage as I laughed, hugging him back.

"Oh, Nathalie! I cannot believe it! That was spectacular!" He gave another shout as he put me down, turning towards the audience and the blackness.

"Ladies, please, those who are trying out for the lead soprano, the spot has been filled immediately! Please try out for another spot or you may leave! Thank you! That is all for the auditions today!" He beamed, smiling the greatest smile I hadn't seen since he had married my mother.

"Henry, please! It wasn't that good! These ladies probably trained for their lives for this audition." I told him, laying a hand on his chest, smiling up at him.

"Nonsense, Nathalie! Let us leave, we shall have dinner right away!" He took my hand in his large one and lead me down a separate set of stairs on the other side of the stage.

As we walked down, the groans and whimpers of cries were heard. I looked and saw a young blonde with her hands holding her face. A man patted her on the shoulder, whispering sweet nothings in her ear to try and cheer her up. As soon as he and I made eye contact, he stood up with a large amount of disdain towards me. He picked his lover up and walked her away from me as I made my way towards the entrance of the Palais Garnier.

The gold ornate of the double staircase we walked down shed it's glory to the hall before us and the large glass and wrought iron doors. The sun had set behind the building, giving the city before us an orange glow.

"Henry, I do not wish to be rude but, I do have someone waiting for me. I must leave. But, I promise we shall have dinner as soon as possible!" I smiled at him, taking my hand out of his. I turned away, bumping into the chest of another man.

"Oh, I apologize!" I cried out, having him grab onto my shoulders for stability.

"It is quite alright." He said, letting me go.

I walked away quickly, looking for Erik and to tell him the amazing news.

…

"Monsieur Boudreaux?" A man asked with a thick accent.

Henry turned around, his brown eyes landing on the young man standing before him. "Yes? May I help you?"

"I certainly hope so. You see, I'm in the business of wanting to be the new patron for the opera you are wanting to put on, the 'Death of a Lover', correct?" His thick accent made the hearts of the women walking around the two gentlemen flutter. Each girl gave a deep sigh as they passed him, trying desperately to look into the eyes of the handsome young man.

"Oh, sorry to disappoint, my boy. I've already gotten a patron." Henry said, his full attention on the man with the dirty blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail that was hanging ever so carefully down his back.

"Well, maybe I can persuade you in perhaps allowing me to play the part of the brother of the lead soprano. If you don't mind," the man held his hand out, ready to shake Henry's.

Henry nodded and shook the young man's hand, feeling the motion of a piece of paper being pressed into his palm. Henry's eyebrow raised.

"Have a good day, Boudreaux." He walked away, his hands held behind his back as he made his way through the small crowd of young ladies watching him. "Ladies," he gave a soft smile to them as he passed through, all sighing and shouting claims of love.

As soon as he stepped outside, the white and gold carriage pulled up, the door immediately opened. The prince stepped inside.

Henry watched the scene unfold before him, the paper still in his hand. He pulled his hand up, unraveling the paper. A check. Henry's eyes bulged as he read the amount of money on the paper. He had never seen that many zero's before in his whole life! Well, that man _certainly_ got the part.

…

His lips pressed firmly against mine as he held me against one of the wooden pillars backstage. All the lights had gone out in the audience and Erik had come out of the shadows and pulled me into this spot we hadn't moved from for a few moments.

He broke our kiss, taking my ear into his teeth with the softest nibble. "I couldn't be more proud, Nathalie. You were the best out of all the women here."

I sighed, closing my eyes as Erik held me against the wooden pillar. "I couldn't have ever done it without you. Thank you so much." I smiled, taking his face in my hands. I looked into his eyes. My thumb ran over the white plaster mask on his face, his eyes closing as my other thumb gently traveled over the soft flesh of his cheek.

"You are most welcome. Now, let us go home. I have something special for you when we arrive." He gave a small smirk as he pulled away, taking my hand in his.

"Will you give me a hint?" I asked, smiling as he walked us out to the stage and down the set of stairs I had traveled constantly in the past half hour.

"Not a chance." He chuckled as he led us out of an exit on the side of the wall and into an alleyway behind the huge opera house.

…

"Did you do it?" Markus asked, rubbing his bald head with his wool-gloved hand. The finger's had been cut off to make him look more deadly, he liked it. He relaxed against the white velvet of the seat in the carriage as they bounced up and down through the busy streets of Paris nightlife.

"Even better." Replied Klaudios, leaning against the small arm rest on the wall of the carriage. He gave an evil smirk as he watched the people stare at the ornate horse-pulled carriage passing them.

"Well?" Markus watched Klaudios as he gave a dark chuckle before turning his amber eyes on him.

"I got the part of her brother."

"That's foolish." Markus sighed, looking out the opposite window.

"Oh no, it's the best part in the whole opera, I promise you." The prince let his white teeth show as he smiled, a plan formulating in his Greek mind. His amber eyes watched as the stars began to form into the sky and dance amongst the Parisian buildings.

"Well, I hope it is. Especially for all that money you paid that oaf."

"The money doesn't matter. That can be replaced over-night, no worries, my good man. But, I wonder how _she'll_ do. I watched her perform and my God-"

"You don't believe in God."

"Hush. As I was saying," Klaudios let out an exasperated sigh as he situated himself into a more comfortable lean. These stupid horses always going over bumps and holes. "As I was saying, before I was interrupted, she has the most gorgeous voice. It is incredible. I had never heard a woman sing like she can. Such a siren."

Markus nodded, knowing if his prince was saying something such as that, she must have been amazing. "Do you think that man will be a problem?"

Klaudios' face kept towards the window yet, his eyes held a hard glare on Markus. "Of course. I might need you and Edio to take care of him eventually if he becomes any more of a problem."

"I apologize, your highness, for not being there to chase after him. I was... doing things..." Markus smirked, thinking of how well that maid was screaming in pleasure. His manhood swelled just thinking of it.

"It doesn't matter. I let you off the night anyways. I wouldn't have _disturbed_ you anyways." Klaudios gave a hearty laugh as he watched Markus shift uncomfortably in his seat. "You're such a horny bastard! You fucked her well, I presume!" Klaudios leaned forward, a wicked grin on his lips.

"I certainly learned from the best," Markus started, winking at Klaudios as the prince gave a rowdy laugh. "She didn't survive the aftermath though."

"No?" The prince was trying to hold back the laughter trying to escape him.

"Nope. So, she now sleeps where the pigs feed. Dirty wench." Markus smirked as Klaudios erupted into a loud roar of a laugh.

Tears formed at the ends of the prince's eyes from laughing so hard. "Oh, oh God! Amazing!"

Both men laughed the whole rest of the way back to the mansion.

…

Erik held his hands over my eyes, his leather-gloved hands holding my face close to his chest as he walked me down the stairs. He was humming a soft tune, something I had heard before.

"What are you singing?" I asked quietly as he kept me walking forward.

I felt his free hand take my hair away from my ear. His breath was there in an instant.

'_Look into my eyes, you will see_

_what you mean to me._

_Search your heart, search your soul_

_And when you find me there, you'll search no more._' Erik held my hand as he stopped me. I felt him go ahead of me, his hand never leaving my eyes. "Don't peak." He took his hand away and I obeyed, keeping my eyes closed.

'_Don't tell me it's not worth trying for._

_You can't tell me it's not worth dying for._

_You know it's true, everything I do_

_I do it for you._' Erik grabbed both of my hands, gently coaxing me up the steps I was completely blind to. I trusted him, letting him guide me into perils of the unknown steps I was taking.

'_Look into your heart, you will find_

_There's nothing there to hide_

_Take me as I am, take my life_

_I will give it all, I would sacrifice._' As soon as I reached the top step, he pulled me back into his embrace, having me walk ahead as he held onto my body.

'_Don't tell me it's not worth fighting for._

_I can't help it, there's nothing I want more._

_You know it's true, everything I do_

_I do it for you._

_There's no love, like your love_

_And no other could give more love_

_There's no where unless you're there_

_All the time, always..._' He sang loudly, his deep tenor voice sounding through-out the stone room we were in. It echoed off walls and vibrated my body, leaving me defenseless as he kept me walking forward, turning me slightly.

'_You can't tell me it's not worth trying for_

_I can't help it, there's nothing I want more_

_I would fight for you, I'd lie for you_

_Walk the wire for you_

_I'd die for you!_' Erik stopped the two of us. He turned me around slowly to face him. "Open your eyes," he whispered, watching as my lids went up slowly. I saw him sigh as he looked into my light blue orbs, smiling as a tendril of black hair fell into my face.

'_You know it's true, everything I do_

_I do it for you..._' He ended the song, watching me as I smiled up at him.

He'd die for me? My heart skipped a beat.

I felt him turn me and I watched as my world began to spin. My head began to spin and my knees shook. "Erik," I whispered. I felt him tense as I brought my hands to his hands that were placed on my shoulders.

"Please, do me the honour of something another woman could never give to me." His voice was filled with love no longer. Yet, with the hurt of knowing I might refuse.

The white dress against the porcelain skinned mannequin looked as if it didn't even look real. I looked on as the black curls on the mannequin's head roll over her shoulders. I looked into the face. Blue eyes. My blue eyes.

I spun around and looked up at Erik. I searched his tanned and pain-infused face. "Get rid of the mannequin and yes," I smiled as he pulled me into him, his hands holding tight to my body.

"I love you, Nathalie."

"I love you also, Erik."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: GASP! Did that _just_ happen? Oh yes it did! He proposed! AW! REVIEW AND TELL ME IF YOU LOVED OR HATED IT! I love all of ya'll!**

***_"He's going to make her a star."  
><em>"Everything I Do" by Bryan Adams and seriously guys, "Mon coeur s'ouvre a ta voix" from Samson et Delilah is the most amazing aria I have ever heard. Please look it up. So amazing.**

**-Laania **


	8. Chapter Seven: No Sudden Moves

**Author's Note: My dear loyal and faithful reviewers, this is almost the last chapter. I know! I am so sad also but, I want to really end it crazy and like, it'll be crazy. So, thank you to Niikkii95, Why Fireflies Flash and CassieXSesshie4ever for reviewing. You make me so happy, I can't even explain it. Wow, you are all so amazing. Oh! And newcomer jjnnrr for alerting this story, welcome to the love!  
><strong>**So guys, we're nearing the end. Stick with me, I promise I won't let you down or ruin your expectations.**

**Disclaimer: **Blah, blah, blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Blah, blah, blah...

**Chapter Seven: No Sudden Moves**

I stood in front of the jewelry store, a large wicker basket filled with colourful soft Egyptian cottons and silver and white silk. I held the basket close, the snow now falling a little harder. My blue eyes looked into the small store, looking at the sparkling diamonds and dazzling sapphires molded perfectly into the gold and silver metals of rings, bracelets and necklaces'. I watched as the pomp women circulated within the store, looking out the glass and out the other side to look at the black-haired woman stand looking at the jewels only they could afford.

I pressed my cold hand against the glass, watching as a light layer of condensation began forming around my palms and fingers. I breathed out, looking at the visible breath floating away into the soon-to-be night.

I gave a small smirk as I shook my head, turning away from the small store. I walked down the cobblestone streets with my hands brought up to my face, protecting my face from the unforgiving winds. I pulled my scarf closer around my neck, pulling it over my mouth and breathing deeply into the thick wool. I held the wicker basket close to me, looking down into it and watching as the snow gathered on the top of the materials. I sighed, ignoring it for the moment.

It was late winter, finally. The snow was coming to an end and Spring would be coming around corner soon. Yet, this strange weather change shook the whole country, sending everyone from their sporting coats and thin trousers to their winter wear in a few hours.

It had been five months; five amazing months. My hand guided itself to the small protruding bump coming right under my stomach. I smiled when I touched it, feeling the hardness under my long black dress and thick long coat. I continued walking as my hand left my stomach, bracing for the large winds ahead of me that were coming up from behind the Opera Populaire. I took in a deep breath, ready for the abrasive winds. Even though early morning, night still felt as if it were still here.

As I turned, I was completely wrong. The winds were still, calm. It felt eerie; even the streets were completely empty, no footprints anywhere in the snow, even if it had been freshly fallen. I furrowed my brows and continued across the empty streets towards the alleyway behind the large abandoned opera house and walked down the secret set of stairs and opened the door, letting a few specks of snow fall onto the warm stone flooring.

"I'm back," I said, hoping he would hear me. I closed the door behind me, moving the lock until a large click sounded. I placed my basket on the floor next to the door, slipping out of the thick coat. I hung it up on the back of the door, the bump showing much more now that the large coat was off.

I walked towards the organ, his back to me as he huddled over the keys, absolutely still. I raised a brow, carefully walking to him. He was in a red and white shirt, which didn't make any sense. He never owned one of these shirts, I would have seen it. His slick black hair was messy, a lighter colour showing a few streaks of dark brown.

"Erik?" I called out, moving closer towards him. My hand reached out for his shoulder, his back still towards me. As I looked down, a small pool of dark red liquid sat underneath him and his wooden bench. My hand grabbed onto his shoulder, his body cold. I gripped tighter, turning him to face me.

I screamed as the heavy body fell backwards, landing in a sickening way that left the neck broken once it landed. I held my mouth as the tears streamed from my eyes. I shut them close, begging myself never to open them again. Yet, I opened the lids over the bright blue eyes and looked at the body half-fallen backwards. His lower body still on the bench as his feet caught the underside of the organ, holding him from falling back completely. The head was situated in such a disgusting way, showing the bone of the spine begging to protrude out of the lightly tanned skin.

His arms spread about, a white piece of paper attached to his chest.

I dropped to my knees, the tears spilling like a waterfall. A full-faced white mask covered his face, nothing visible. I shook my head, Erik had one, I knew yet, he would never wear it. I reached for the piece of paper, pulling it off of the blood-stained shirt. With careful eyes, I read it.

_'I shall be waiting for you at the performance tonight. I will be watching. -Klaudios'_

I screamed, crunching the paper up into a tight ball. I grabbed the white mask roughly from his face, pulling it off with the strength of three men. I stopped screaming, my heart slowing back to a fast pace instead of the heart attack about to take place.

I moved closer to the face, mine just a few inches above. The eyes still open showed the chocolate balls that weren't his. His lips were thin and his nose was crooked. I sat back on my heels, looking at the imposter, dead on the floor.

I cupped my face in my hands, sobbing. The performance. How could I do it without Erik? How could I do the play knowing _he_ had him? I've only met him once, how could he have known where we were? How could he have known who Erik was? Where was Erik?

"ERIK!" I screamed, my hand moving to my heart as I clutched onto the skin as hard as I could, trying with all my might to rip my heart out. I stood up, running towards the bed. I stopped instantly, looking at the surprise just laying there, begging to be picked up.

My shaking hands took it carefully, turning it over and over, looking at the plaster with the most of care. His mask, this was his mask. "Oh Erik," I whispered, feeling the cold plaster in my hands. I shook my head as I put it back on the bed, placing it on the lush red pillow.

"I have to quit the play. I can't..." I began to burst into short spurts of tears as I imagined Erik with _him_. I turned around, my hands over my mouth as I ran to grab my coat, leaving the dead and broken body strewn over the piano bench and stone flooring. I ran out of the lair, running as fast and safely as I could towards the Palais Garnier.

…

I threw open the doors and ran over the pink and cream marble flooring. The grand candles weren't lit yet, the gas burning lamps that lung low though, gave a soft yet deadly light to the entrance. The long hall seemed to go on forever as I ran, my ballet slippers making a slight clapping noise each and every time I took a step. It sounded like a fast metronome, or the sound of my beating heart.

I ran up the steps, my black hair wild from the snow and wind from the outside. As I turned into the dressing room doors, I ran towards Henry's office.

My hands gripped onto the side of his door frame as I leaned against it, trying to catch my breath as I tried to regain my posture. The tall round man looked up from his paperwork and at me.

"Mon Dieu," he whispered as he stood, taking in my ragged appearance. "Nathalie, what happened?" He came up to me, his hands taking my shoulders and I shook with another violent sob.

"I need to leave the opera, Henry. I just can't... My lover, he..." I fell to my knees, my hands out in front of me, tearing at the ornate Persian rug sitting on the wood-paneled flooring.

"No, no, no," he said over and over again, kneeling down to my level to hold me, strengthen me with no knowledge of what was happening.

"It's all over, Henry. I can't do this." I looked up at him, my face soaked in salty tears as I searched his strained face.

"I cannot let that happen, Nathalie. The show must go on, you know that." His large hands gripped my shoulders, trying to comfort me. "Even though he is gone, Nathalie, he wouldn't want to live on forever knowing you held back for him."

My eyes widened at what he said. How could he say that? Erik has helped me get to this place, this office, this opera house to sing in front of a sold out performance.

"How dare you." I seethed, watching as my nails had scratched off the horizontal threads, separating the vertical threads next, creating holes where my fingers are.

"Love must die, Nathalie! This is your life now!" Henry pulled me off the ground, his dark brown eyes looking solidly into my blue eyes. He sighed when I said nothing back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "A letter came for you an hour ago." He pressed the letter into my hands as he turned me around and walked me out of the office.

With a cough and a clearing of the throat, Henry looked down into my eyes. "You're still the same little girl I knew for so long, sweetheart. Go get ready for one," he leaned down, his brown eyes now eye level with me. "Last," his hands grabbed my face and pulled me down a little, his thin lips planting themselves on my forehead. "Time." He whispered after letting me go.

"He'll come back, I promise. A break up is nothing if there is no commitment." He said as he walked back into his office, closing and locking the heavy wooden door.

I looked down at the letter in my hands. He didn't know. Henry doesn't know I'm with child yet. He doesn't know about Erik. He thinks someone broke up with me. He knows nothing.

My hand traveled down and rubbed my stomach, my heart racing as I turned around and began walking towards the dressing rooms.

The envelope tightly secured in my cold hands.

…

"_Nathalie," he whispered, his deep and husky voice flowing over my body. His large hand held onto my body, keeping it pulled against his. His lips traced down my neck, leaving butterfly kisses that sent sirens through my body. I turned my head to watch him as he caressed my stomach, the small bump having formed just a few weeks ago._

I kept thinking of him, I kept remembering the first time, the first kiss, the first laugh, the first _love_! As they tightened the corset around my body, I had no clue. I didn't have to be told to hold in my breath, I never let it out. I didn't have to be told to sit down or to stand up, I had memorized every movement perfectly.

I looked at the mirror constantly, watching as the woman I knew disappeared, changing into a woman I had no clue about. She was tanner, her lips a blood red and her blue eyes covered in gold-leaf and black liquid. The woman in the mirror's hair changed; it went from the nappy nest of chickens to long and luscious curls that fell down my back and over my shoulders. A few wisps of curls hung in my forehead, creating a perfect frame.

A man began shouting something, I could care less.

A young girl asked me something; I kept my eyes on the mirror.

"Erik," I whispered finally, a stage hand heard, walking over towards me and giving a slight bow.

"Prima Donna? You called?" His high-pitched voice only fell on deaf ears as I only continued to stare at the woman. She looked sad, confused. Her life was over, she knew it. Nothing would ever be good enough to her if He wasn't there.

"_Do you love me?" He asked, his face above mine, his mask off and the sweat dripping down his straight and beautiful long nose. My fingers traced every inch of his face: the scared and the perfect. His scars were perfect, they knew pain and hurt. His hand slid under my back, pressing my body up towards his. "Y-Yes..." I whispered, feeling his heat on my womanhood. The smile on his face was worth living for._

"Nathalie! It is time!" Henry said, his hands clutching onto my shoulders.

I shook out of my hypnosis and looked up at Henry through the mirror. "Okay," I stood, the long silk white wedding dress falling to floor in one sweeping motion, the sound of fabric settling as I walked away, the white heels I wore sounded as if they were booming through the wooden rafters.

"Nathalie, wait-" Henry shouted, his voice caught in his voice as he ran in front of me, stopping me from moving and further. "Read the letter, please."

I looked down at his hands, the crumpled letter smoothed out as best as it could was held in front of my face, begging me to open it.

I took it, turning it over. As I slid my finger under the flap, the thick paper took my finger as it's first victim. "Ouch!" I hissed, pulling the finger into my mouth as I sucked the blood.

I pulled the note out, letting the envelope fall to the floor.

_'He is here with me. He'll be watching and so shall I. Don't make me wait, Nightingale.' -Klaudios_

I crumpled the paper and screamed, throwing it across the room. My chest was heaving up and down, the corset tight against my body, making me grab hold of Henry so I wouldn't fall or pass out from this Hell I was being put through.

"Nathalie?" He asked, his voice full of concern as I dropped to my knees again.

…

"Why won't you talk, man?" Edio shouted, his fists slamming against the white wall paper of the small bedroom turned make-shift prison.

Erik held his head low, his eyes shifting between the skinny man and the burly one who leaned in the chair against the wall, his feet perched on top of a small marble-top table.

Markus held the apple in his hand, the pocket knife in the other. He cut another piece off and popped it into his mouth, chewing the semi-sweet and juicy fruit. "Calm down, Edio. If he doesn't want to talk then, she'll have to pay the consequences." He said in between his chews, eying the young man as he paced back and forth through the room. Markus watched as the man sat still in the chair he was tied to, his mask having been tossed off during the kidnapping back in the man's home.

"Fílos*, tell me, do you think she'll show up?" Markus asked the man, his deadly brown eyes watching the man's every movement.

Erik turned his head away, knowing the Greek term he used. 'Friend', how dare he even use such terms to list him as such. He took him from his home as he was changing from his morning bath.

"He's still not talking, Markus." Edio hissed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he paced the 'prison' some more.

"Patience, Edio."

"NO! Don't tell me what to do? Where is he? He's supposed to be here by now to make him talk!" Edio shouted, his fingers running through his brown shaggy hair and gripping onto the oily strands.

As soon as he did that, the door slammed open, revealing the instigator. Even Erik looked up finally to see who he was dealing with. A low growl reverberated through his chest as he watched him walk in.

"Your highness!" Edio shouted, lowering to one knee, showing the utmost respect for the young gentleman that just walked in.

"Welcome," Markus said as he popped another slice of apple into his mouth.

Edio eyed Markus, his brown eyes burning with anger. "Why don't you bow before your Prince?" He hissed.

"Because, he and I have an agreement. I also have bad knees," Markus gave a smirk as the youngest man in the room stood and walked towards the back corner, sitting in a small wooden chair, meant for a child probably.

Klaudios gave a slight smile at Markus as he watched the burly man give a respectful nod. "Glad to see you're enjoying Paris, my good man. We don't get apples like that down in the homeland." Klaudios smiled as he grabbed a simple chair from the wall, pulling it in front of Erik, turning it around so that the back would face the man he would be talking to.

As he straddled the chair, Erik lifted his head, revealing the scar-infused half face, his thinning brown hair as slicked as he tried to get it.

"Good God, man. Cover that up, I might vomit on it." Klaudios feigned backing away, his tongue out as he stared at the scars. "Actually, if I vomit on it, it might look better." A rapturous laugh came from behind the Prince, Markus laughing as he swallowed the chewed apple.

"If there was a God, I seriously believe you'd look better than that. How's it you get that, scar face?"

Erik grunted, his head turning away from the two men in front of him.

"You know, she is in imminent danger, right? One wrong move and I'll have her killed." Klaudios said, his amber eyes slanted as he watched the emotions surge through the man in front of him.

"If you even lay one _finger_!" Erik began to shout, his deep tenor voice sounding through the small room.

"What would you do, hmmm? Send me another letter? No, my dear dead man, you do not get off that easily. Remember, one wrong move from you, she dies."

"You wouldn't kill her." Erik snapped back, his head turned up, his green eyes watching as Klaudios perked up, his body tensing.

"You dare me, scar face?"

"No, I know you. You wouldn't hurt touch as single hair on her head. You'd kill anyone to be with her, even me but, you will never hurt her." Erik seethed back, his teeth grinding against each other.

Klaudios took in a deep breath, holding it as he stood quickly from the chair and, with a hard grip, threw it into the the wall, destroying the wooden chair into multiple pieces. The Prince was losing his temper and Erik smirked as he knew he hit a nerve.

"You fucking piece of shit!" Klaudios shouted, his thick accent now booming through the room. A slew of Greek curses escaped his lips as he began to pace back and forth in front of Erik, his hands cracking each finger individually.

In an instant, Klaudios was in Erik's face, his hot breath waving over the tied man's face. "You want to know why I want her? Hmmm? I bet you do. I bet you want to hear how she loved me before she ever thought of you." Klaudios took a few more breaths in, calming himself as he walked behind Erik, his lips near his ear.

"She was only four and I, well, being the Prince of all of Greece, took her as my friend, having no brothers or sisters. Her mother, that calumniation of diseases and sin of a woman, took bed with the Duke, my uncle and birthed a girl named Nathalie Lydie Alexandros." Klaudios walked away, motioning for Edio to stand and to give him his chair.

After retrieving the chair that was now warm, Klaudios placed it in the same position as the other unfortunate piece of wood nailed together.

"Her name was Alexandros for a reason and she and I had an agreement as children, we'd marry each other one day and rule over all the Grecian lands as King and Queen. Even though her and her brothers and sisters only stayed for those four years, during which she was born, I never forgot her. I have an amazing memory." Klaudios tapped his temple, his smile growing.

"She left, leaving me all alone with no queen to help me take over the kingdom next. I watched her as she was taken away. I chased after that blasted train for god sakes. She cried for me out of the window, he beautiful black hair beating her soft skin as she reached out, watching as I slowed down as finally let her go. I was only nine. She was only four. I was in love.

"I tried to reach her but, every letter I sent came back. It had said that no one lived at the address anymore. My heart was broken. I grew up a wretched little boy, mad at everything in life. She had been the only peace I had ever known and her mother took her away from me, throwing me back in the shackles of every day palace life! I had no where to run anymore, no where to play without her.

"She chose to leave me, I knew it back then and I knew it today. I knew she wouldn't have left me accidentally. She had promised me under the covers of satin sheets she would never leave, that she liked me." Klaudios felt a slight blush to his features.

"Where was I? Oh yes, you see, I grew up a damaged and spoiled only child to a king and queen that never paid any attention to me. I use to go and party with that man you see behind you." Klaudios held his thumb backwards, pointing to Markus as the burly man nodded, tossing the apple core onto the floor.

"We ate together, slept together, bedded women together, sometimes we even bedded the _same_ woman together. He taught me everything I know today and that is to take what you want, not to ask politely and see if it comes with a large bow on top. No, you take what you need and watch as the world suffers without it." Klaudios smirked as he looked at Erik, who by now, had no reason to ignore. He wanted to hear this story.

"Tell me how you found her mother." Erik asked, stunning the Prince.

"Well, the beast talks!" Klaudios shouted, looking back at Markus as the man pulled another apple out of his coat pocket. "Since you want to know so badly, I guess I _should_ explain how it came to be that I came here.

"It was easy finding that woman. Being as sleazy as she was, it was easy finding information about her. She quickly welcomed me back with open arms and open legs, if I do recall."

"You recall correctly, my good man." Markus interrupted, giving a slight smile as he remembered the aged woman.

"Yes, she was very... _hospitable_, if that word could describe her. Apparently, I had gotten there at the most fortunate time. Her daughter had gone missing and she had called the police, about to travel to the small flat to see if she had fallen ill and died. If she would have died, well, we wouldn't be here and you would have never known me.

"Yet, when we entered the flat and she was no where in sight, the police began a extensive search only to have their target walk in several minutes later. That was how we met. That is how I know her." Klaudios stood, throwing his leg around the chair and walking behind Erik, his hands gripped tightly onto the black dress coat on Erik's shoulders.

"I have killed and would kill to get her back in my hands again. She is mine, monster, never yours, no many the times you've loved her. I have _killed_ for her and sometimes, that may come at a price." Klaudios laughed lightly in Erik's ear, watching the man twitch under his touch.

"Who have you killed to get her? Certainly no one since you're pathetic waste of existence has been here." Erik boiled, trying to pull his head away from the disturbed prince.

"You remember these names: William, Jacques, Francine, James, Miriam and of course, my favorite would be brother-in-law, Andrew."

Erik's eyes snapped open. He struggled with the ropes suffocating his wrists, cutting into his skin. "You bastard! You killed her family?"

"You gotta do what you gotta do sometimes, am I right?" Klaudios strolled in front of Erik, his hands and shoulders shrugging as he smiled. "You know what was funny? Andrew remembered me. Unfortunately, the others did not. Sad, really. But, you can't have everything unless you're willing to pay the price."

"You're a sick man. If you even acted a fraction of what your blood-given title says, you might survive my anger. I assure you, once these chains are broken, I will kill you, slowly. Just like you killed her family." Erik was shaking, a sweat formed on his brow from his blood boiling under his tanned skin.

"I'm sick? No! Never! _He_ is. He's the one that gave her those precious kisses along her back." Klaudios laughed as Erik began shouting in French, his translation lost and the two Green men laughing as they watched the scar-faced man shriek in anger.

Edio watched and his brow lowered. He killed her family just to have her? Edio shook his head. "Your highness, the play starts shortly. You'll be late for your performance."

Erik stopped moving, having listened to every word the younger henchman said. "Performance?"

"You didn't know? I'm the brother. My scene and only scene is the most unforgiving, right? You know how to opera goes: the woman waits for her love to return to marry him, he doesn't show up because he's dead, having being killed by the brother, unknown it was him. The funeral, my dear man, the end scene. That is when I appear, having to tell her I _killed_ her lover and that I will _always_ love her." Klaudios walked towards the door and turned the handle, looking over his shoulder at Erik.

"I surely hope you can make it. It would be tragic if the main character's death happened before you could _ever_ see it." He laughed out the door as Markus followed him.

"Stay here and watch the monster. If he tries anything," Markus pulled the silver revolver from the back of his pants, tossing it towards the skinny man as he followed his employer and old friend. With a deathly glare to the both of them, Markus closed the door, locking it from the outside.

Edio eyed the gun in his hands. He looked to the man tied against the chair, blood trickling down his fingers and down onto the floor.

"You are some weird guy, huh?" Edio asked, walking towards the chair the prince had just been sitting on, his original chair the prince had taken from him. It was his again. He gave a small smile.

"I am no one. Leave me alone." Erik sighed, looking towards the pieces of wood from the broken chair.

"I can get you out of here." Edio spit out, his face gone pale as Erik's scarred one looked at him.

"Why make lies everyone can see through?" Erik hissed, his anger growing by the second. He needed to get out of here and to Nathalie. He knew how the opera ended and he shook his head for putting her through this.

"I quit. I don't want to work with him anymore. He killed her brothers and sisters. I remember. I had just joined. I didn't know it was for _her_ though."

Erik eyed the young man sitting in front of him. "What made her different than any other girl your 'master' killed for?"

Edio shrugged his shoulder and looked away. "He never killed anyone like that before. I had never seen him so focused on someone for as long as this. This is an obsession and knowing him, anyone having touched his toys, he would kill them on the spot. She's just a toy to him; I can't sit back and watch an innocent woman die at his hands so that no one else can play with her."

"He's going to kill her?" Erik shouted, his throat drying up as he pictured Nathalie dying.

"That's what Markus was saying. Whatever he says, usually it happens."

"You have to let me go, boy. I need to save her; you can help save her life."

Edio eyed the man, his eyes looking over the scars. "How'd you get those?"

Erik was flabbergasted. "W-What?"

Edio pointed to his own face, tracing over his thin cheeks and down into his ear.

"I was born like this. Now, are you going to help me or not?"

Edio looked away again, his arms resting on the back of the chair, his chin snuggled in between his forearms.

"I'll give you fifty thousand francs."

Edio stood up and walked behind Erik, his small pocket knife cutting the bloodied rope from his wrists.

"You had me at 'hello'." Edio smiled as Erik kicked at the door, the thin wooden door flying open.

…

"_Take me, I'm alive_

_Never was a girl with wicked mind_

_But everything looks better_

_When the sun goes down_

_I had everything_

_Opportunities for eternity_

_And I could belong to the night._" I sang out, the groggy voice pairing well with the last song of the opera. The cello's and basses were crunching down on their strings, bringing out the deep notes on their lower strings as the violins kept rhythm, allowing the viola's to take in the melody for once as they all circulated into a deep dark mass, the audience begging for more of the new era of music being driven out.

"_Your eyes, your eyes_

_I can see in your eyes, your eyes._

_You make me wanna die_

_I'll never be good enough_

_You make me wanna die_

_And everything you love_

_Will burn up in the light_

_And every time I look into your eyes_

_You make me wanna die._" The background soprano singers began harmonizing with me as I sang out the first part of the song, the cello's and basses once again taking back to the crunching of the triplet notes and sixteenth notes that were scribbled on their music sheets, changing quickly in order to keep up with the song.

"_Taste me, drink my soul_

_Show me all the things I shouldn't know_

_When there's a blue moon on the rise_

_I had everything_

_Opportunities for eternity_

_And I could belong to the night._

_Close your eyes, I can see_

_In your eyes, you eyes_

_You make me wanna die_

_I'll never be good enough_

_You make me wanna die_

_And everything you love_

_Will burn up in the light_

_And every time I look inside your eyes_

_You make me wanna die._" The instruments calmed down, playing the melodic tune that was leading up to the finish.

"_And I'd die for you, my love_

_And I'll lie for you, my love_

_I'll steal for you my love, my love_

_And I'll die for you, my love, my love_-"

"Is that true?" The cold press of metal against my neck ended the song, the audience in a large whisper at the scene they didn't remember in their playbook. "I asked you a question, Nightingale, is that true? Would you really die for me?"

* * *

><p><strong>"Make Me Wanna Die" by The Pretty Reckless, which is a really great band.<strong>

***Filos- friend.  
>Please read and review guys! Maybe if I get enough reviews, I'll upload the final chapter sometime soon! Thanks again!<br>Laania **


	9. Chapter Eight: Healing a Broken Heart

**Author's Note: WARNING! This is a tear-jerker. I love all of you who have made this the best story it could possibly be. You all have stuck with me through thick and thin and I am so appreciative for that. I want to thank CassieXSesshie4ever, Alvkard Vognir, Why Fireflies Flash, Niikkii95, xandi412 and RedDeathLvr for reviewing this story. It has meant the world to me that ya'll followed it for so long. Thank you. Now, on with the final show.**

**Disclaimer:** Blah, blah, blah... I don't own Phantom of the Opera... Blah, blah, blah

**Chapter Eight: Healing a Broken Heart**

His hand held the cold blade against her warm throat; his thumb slightly rubbing the soft skin right above where the thick vein lay underneath the tender and delicate skin. Her fingers frighteningly curled around his forearms, his hot skin burning her fingers. Her blue eyes filled with tears. The tears were acting as a raging flood barreling towards the small flimsy wooden structure meant to hold it back. The wooden structure was screaming, trying to run away from the devastation hurdling towards it. Though, bound together, they were forced to stand before the thunderous waters. Together they stood, together they fell.

The tears broke through the black eyelashes coated with mascara. The ink-coated tears fell down her cheeks, staining the porcelain skin. They dripped onto his hand, falling down until they hung from his hand, waiting to spill onto the white bosoms held high from the corset binding itself to her body.

"P-Please..." She sobbed, her voice the thing making a sound in the auditorium, every other person was silent, engrossed in the opera before them. Yet, this was no opera. The opera ended once the blade touched her soft neck. She was begging for her life now.

"Please _what_?" He hissed in her ear, his fiery breath traveling down her body, his tongue licking his lips. He brought his parted lips to her ear, his nose burying itself into her hair taking in the sweet aroma of vanilla.

Her lips began quivering, her eyes looking up into the rafters up above, looking for something that was nowhere to be seen. She choked on another sob, causing the sharp steel to press harder into her neck. The heavy dress began to pull her down, the weight making her sink down towards the dark-wooden floors.

"Stand, Nightingale. I want the whole world to see the beauty before them." He whispered, pulling her back up against his hard body so that she was back on her feet again.

"Stop calling me that," she cried out, her voice almost singing as she shouted. "Where is he?" She blurted out, her heart racing faster as he chuckled in her ear.

"He's long gone. You're all mine. You promised you'd always be mine." He whispered, the audience unable to hear him.

The audience began to talk, their questions going unanswered, the opera not following anything they had ever seen before.

Nathalie's eyes looked down to the conductor in the orchestra pit, her eyes begging him to run to get help.

"Monsieur Reé, get the police. Hurry." The conductor whispered to his priority Violinist.

The young man nodded, placing his violin on his chair as he stood, walking out of the orchestra pit and running quietly towards the doors for help.

A single gunshot rang out, the audience began to scream as the spray of blood coated a few by-standers. The young Violinists' fell hard to the carpeted flooring. Markus walked out from behind a seat and lay the young kid down.

"Thank you, my friend." Klaudios shouted from the stage, his lips pulled into a large smile.

The audience began to panic and scream; ladies were screaming at the husbands or escorts to take them away from the horror. The men were doing all they could to protect the ones they loved while trying to figure out a way that wasn't blocked by the violent gunslinger standing at the doors.

The extra gun Markus held a a powerful punch once you pulled the trigger and Markus loved it. "Finally killed something like a real man." He smirked as the men stood watching him with anger as the ladies held tears and fear in their eyes. "Get out, all of you." Markus said, watching as everyone bolted for the doors, giving no one a second look as they toppled over each other, trying to escape the mad man that had killed an innocent young man.

…

"How much longer until we get there?" Edio shouted as they rode the horses bareback, the cobblestone streets were being beaten by the horses hooves.

"We're here," Erik said as the Palais Garnier appeared from behind a few buildings.

…

"Now, Nightingale, where were we? Oh yes, Act 3, Scene 6. Do you remember what that title was called?" His voice tickled her ear, making her body cringe under the mysterious and foreign presence.

She said not a word, her body shaking so violently she couldn't breathe.

"NATHALIE!" A woman screamed from the dark audience, her voice bouncing off the walls of the large auditorium.

Nathalie's eyes darted back and forth, trying to decipher where the woman was.

"Let my daughter go!" The woman shouted again, footsteps now sounding on the wood flooring of the stage.

As Klaudios turned Nathalie in the direction of the voice, the elder woman stood tall for her microscopic size. Her fading auburn hair was held tightly in a bun sitting almost on the top of her head. Her golden dress was pristine, her green eyes dull as sickness took over her aging body.

"Well, if it isn't the infamous Bridgette André herself, gracing us with her presence. Bridgette, I don't believe you've met my dear future wife, Nathalie." Klaudios gave a soft smile as his traced Nathalie's neck, taking in her scent.

"Leave her alone, Klaudios. Let my daughter go," the older woman said, stepping closer to the deranged prince, her sweaty palms pressed tightly into her gown.

A gun cocked behind the head of the woman, stopping her in her attempt to take her daughter away.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, whore." Markus snickered, his revolver inches from the back of her skull. His trigger finger held tight against the movable metal, ready to send the woman into the next world with a bang, so to speak.

"No, mother, just leave." Nathalie cried out. Even though hating her mother more than the world itself five months ago, she couldn't bear to see her mother die in front of her. Though she was the worlds most distant parent and immoral disease carrier, she provided for her children and wouldn't stand for anyone hurting her flesh and blood.

"Yes, _mother_, leave before something drastic happens." Klaudios smiled, his free hand traveling down Nathalie's dress, moving his hand down the porcelain breasts held high and tight together from the corset.

"Leave her alone!" Bridgette shouted, her right foot moving forward.

The gun shot was followed by the blood-curdling scream belonging to Nathalie.

The woman dropped sideways, her forehead the canvas for the bullet's exit wound. Her bun was still intact, hiding the portion of skull that was blown off. Blood flooded the small area of the stage, the golden dress of the woman soaking up the thick liquid, changing it's beautiful colour to something that came out of a Gothic romance novel.

"MOTHER!" Nathalie screamed, her finger nails digging deep into the skin of her captor, tearing the tough skin and allowing ten small trickle's of blood to flow down his tanned skin.

"God damn it!" Klaudios shouted, pulling the knife away from Nathalie's throat, throwing her body to the hard and unforgiving floor. Klaudios rubbed his forearms, smearing the blood into the three quarter sleeves.

Nathalie looked up, her mother's face in complete shock. Nathalie crawled over, her hand reaching out for the old woman's face. As her fingertips grazed the lightly wrinkled skin, the head turned a little, the older woman's lips slightly kissing the floor.

Tears streamed from Nathalie's eyes as she looked at her mother's dead body. 'Is this how it's supposed to happen? You hold my brother's head and I hold yours? Is this all my fault?' She thought, her body mimicking the symptoms of a seizure. Her bottom lip quivered with tremendous fury, her body shaking as if someone had her by her shoulders and was beating the life out of her.

"Dear Mommy, shouldn't have moved." Markus chuckled, his gun to his side now. Klaudios' eyes watched as Nathalie crawled towards her mother, her hands gripping onto the dead woman's shoulders.

"Get up!" Klaudios shouted, his hand reaching for Nathalie, hauling her up and onto her feet. With both hands held tight on her arms, he picked her up until she was eye level with him, her mascara bleeding down her face. "You can never escape! You will never be free! You are _mine_!" Klaudios shouted, a hand letting her go to back hand her face.

"Do you understand, sweet Nightingale, that not even your precious Opera Ghost can save you now?"

"You said he would be here!" Nathalie shouted, her voice raspy as the tears moved down her throat, burning alone the way.

"I lied. You should have remembered. Do you not remember? Do you not remember _me_?" He shouted again, his hand slapping her across the face for a second time.

Nathalie cried out, her cheek stinging as she shook her head. "I'd never remember a monster like you." She hissed, her fear now gone and the hatred now burning up inside her.

"You should. You're the one who made me this way."

"I've never even met you! I don't remember you!"

"Greece, 1864, your birthplace, your home until you fucking mother stole you from me!" Klaudios shouted, his face inches from Nathalie's.

Nathalie's anger faded, her memories flooding back with a dam breaking. She searched his angered face with her blue eyes, placing the pieces together. Her eyebrows scrunched up, her lips pulled into a deathly sneer.

"You!"

"You remember, finally. Markus, prepare the carriage, the woman remembers her _promise_." He hissed the last word, his face moving in closer to Nathalie's.

"I made no promise to you."

"Oh no? You never promised we would rule as King and Queen? You never promised you would never leave me? I think you better deliberate a little harder, Nightingale."

Nathalie's spit came flying out of her mouth, landing in the eyes of the man holding her. "I was four! You should have let it go! It was nothing but a play thing and you, you believed I really loved you when I _never_ loved you! It was a game, it's time now for you to remember!" Nathalie shouted, kicking up and in between the legs of Klaudios.

His hands let her go, dropping her to the stage. Nathalie stood quickly, grabbing her skirt and beginning her run as she tried escaping. If Erik wasn't going to help her, then she'd need to do something on her own.

Hands grabbed her stomach, wrapping her up into a tight bind and pulling her high into the air as her screams and kicks pounded through the air.

"You're going nowhere, Nightingale!" Klaudios shouted, turning her screaming and kicking body around and walked her back to the center of the stage where Markus and the bloody corpse of her mother were.

"I swear to God above, I will kill you! I will rot in jail happily to see you die by my hands!" Nathalie screamed, cursing in French to the high heavens above and vowing to never let this go.

"Oh, shut up!" Klaudios shouted, throwing her to the ground, a sickening thud reverberated through-out the empty auditorium.

Another blood-curdling scream came from her raspy throat as she held onto her wrist. She writhed in pain and the tears were endless streams coming from under her eyelids. She turned over, her head resting on top of the woman's corpses' stomach.

A loud thud exploded on stage, the sound of boots colliding hard with the wooden stage held everyone's attention.

His hands were clenched tightly together, his nails digging into his soft palms and drawing blood. A low growl rumbled through his chest as he stepped forward, his brilliant green eyes on Markus and Klaudios. With his mask gone and his wig strewn across the stone floor of his lair, he wasn't a sight to behold. His face mixed with undisputed rage and scars were devastating enough to scare grown men, yet the two men who watched him appear from the shadows of stage only watched with no amusement.

Klaudios' sharp amber eyes burned into Markus. "Why is he here?" Klaudios seethed, his eyes leaving his friend and back at the deformed man.

"Edio," Markus whispered, his teeth grinding against each other as he thought of the young man.

The gun cocked itself behind his head. "Right you are, Markus."

The look on Markus' face could only be described as fear as his eyes grew wide, his hands sweating as the gun pressed against her bald head.

"Now, now, dear Edio, we wouldn't want to do anything _drastic_ now, would we?" Klaudios watched as his former employee threaten the life of his old friend.

"No, I really think I want to do something _drastic_ as you put it, Klaudios." Edio said, his eyes now looking as Erik walked forward towards the young woman laying on the ground. "Why don't you tell her why her family is _really_ dead, Klaudios? Why don't you tell her _you_ did it? And Markus, why don't you tell her _you_ gave her those scars society cannot look beyond?" Edio seethed.

Nathalie stopped breathing as she watched Klaudios' reaction. His eyes narrowed to golden slits as he thought of something to say.

"Yes, I did it." Klaudios said softly, his sentence barely audible.

"So they can hear you!" Edio shouted.

"I did it! I killed them! I killed your beloved Andrew and all the others! It was me, Nightingale. I killed them all." He gave a roaring laughter as Markus chuckled, watching as the young woman cringed.

The gunshot broke the maniacal Greek's laughter as Markus' hard body dropped to the floor, joining the older woman.

Klaudios turned towards Edio, his breath caught in his throat as his eyes bulged from their sockets.

Edio stood shaking, looking down at the man's blood slowly escaping, mixing in with the cold blood of Bridgette.

"Oh, my God..." Edio whispered, dropping the gun to the floor, his hands pulled up to his mouth as he watched the blood soak his leather shoes. Edio fell to his knees, his dark chocolate eyes on the older man he had just killed. "W-What have I done?" The young man's bottom lip quivered as silent tears streamed down his face.

"You killed him, you bastard." Klaudios said as he walked over to the sulking man, the young man's face in his hands. "Why did you kill him? He was nothing but kind to you, Edio." Klaudios silently stalked over to Edio, his amber eyes glittering with something mischievous.

"I-I didn't mean to... He... He was going to kill her."

"And yet you killed him! Making you a murderer!" Klaudios shouted, his thick accent filling the air as he stood behind Edio, tightening the grip on the blade of the dagger.

"I didn't want to kill him! I-" the sound of his voice was cut off by the blood gurgling in his throat. Klaudios' swift hand sliced into the neck of the kneeling young man from behind. The blood spraying off in many different directions, sparkled in the gas lamps of the stage, emanating a soft bloody fountain.

Nathalie screamed as the blood spray all over her long white dress, speckling it in the crimson glory.

Erik walked forward, Nathalie almost in his reach.

"Make one more move and I swear to Zeus, you'll fall where you stand." Klaudios hissed, the fallen gun in his free hand.

Erik paused, not wanting to test the insane prince. As his eyebrows brought themselves down, Erik barred his teeth at the radical man.

"That's better. Now," Klaudios walked slowly towards Nathalie, picking her up by her hair and pulling her to her feet, wrapping her in his arms once again. "Dear Nightingale, if you would ever be so kind as to tell this man to leave us be, we can continue on with our lives as they were meant to me."

Nathalie's hard breath wheezed out of her, her eyes red from all the tears she shed and the black mascara falling in them. Nathalie watched Erik, her heart beating as her hands stuck by her sides, her shoulders held captive by Klaudios' arms wrapped around them.

"E-Erik?" She whispered, watching as he shook with fury.

"Don't do it, Nathalie. I will make you safe, I promise." He managed to say through his closed teeth, watching as Klaudios' eyebrow raised at the interaction.

"Tell him 'no', Nathalie. Tell him you never want to see him again. Tell him he's 'a monster', the Devil's own creation to be the laughing stock of all humanity." Klaudios whispered softly in her ear, watching as the deformed man held his gaze.

Nathalie couldn't breathe, her hand barely able to travel up to her stomach as she rubbed the hidden bump. Another slew of tears escaped her eyes as she gently caressed the unborn child. As she began to slowly shake her head, she looked only at Erik. Her blue eyes flooding with the tears and memories they created together. "I'm sorry," she whispered to him, choking on her sobs as her hand left her stomach.

"Sorry for _what_?" Klaudios seethed, waiting to hear the woman say all the horrible things about the man standing in front of them.

"I'm sorry for only loving _you_, Erik."

Klaudios' head snapped up as he looked at the side of Nathalie's tear-streaked face. Her body shook tremendously in his hold as she never looked away from him. He forced himself to look away and at the hideous man standing as his own eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry for only loving _you_, always being yours and I will _never, ever_ be his, even if it kills me! I am not a toy to be thrown around!" She shouted, her eyes closing as she shook her head. "I'd rather _die_ than love him!" She screamed at the end, her eyes squeezed shut as she shook her head fiercely.

"Exactly." Klaudios whispered.

She never saw the knife as it's tipped pointed towards her head, driving hard and fast into her porcelain skin, breaking through the hard sternum. The sharp blade pierced her heart, cut the nerves in two, split their world in half.

Everything was silent.

Everything played out in slow-motion.

Erik leapt over the three fallen bodies as Klaudios dropped Nathalie to the floor, dagger still in her heart as he began raising the gun as quickly as he could.

Erik grabbed hold of his rising wrist with ease, using his other hand to bend the wrist backwards until a sickening crack indicated it was completely broken and useless, the gun falling out of the Greek's fingers.

Erik reached for the falling gun, catching it quickly and placing the metal barrel against the frightened man's forehead. With a single muscle pulling the trigger, the prince known as Klaudios, was no more.

The bullet escaped from the backside of his head, the pieces of skull flying away into the vacant seats of the audience. The brain matter separated, leaving a perfect circle in the middle as it sent one last message to the body, ceasing all blood flow. His body fell slowly onto the gas lamps of the stage, his white and gold tuxedo coat catching fire as he rolled off the stage and into the abandoned orchestra pit below.

Erik watched as his body fell, throwing the gun into the consuming fire of the man's dead body.

He spun around hard, falling on his hands and knees as he looked at the tear-filled face of Nathalie. His hands reached out for her, his hands shaking as he watched the blood trickle out of the corners of her mouth. He hadn't even noticed her deafening screams as he pulled her in close to him.

As he held her slow-growing cold body into his warm chest, her screams were calming down into the wrongful cries. She looked at her blood-covered hands and at the dagger still in her chest, proudly displaying for all to see. As her chest heaved up and down, so did the dagger, never leaning side to side. It was held tight in the bone and heart, the blood pumping out of her body as well as through her cold limbs.

Erik's tears were falling on her face as he shushed her, calming her and shaking his head. His hands held her arms, his fingers relishing in the soft skin he knew he would be losing shortly.

"Get it out of me!" She screamed, her mouth wide open as she screamed again, pain exploding through her body as the tip of the knife scratched her insides as she breathed fast and heavily. Blood came up through her throat, muting the screams only a little as she coughed out the blood, swallowing most of it as if trying to keep it in her.

"I can't, it'll only kill you!" Erik cried back, his hand traveling to her face and stroking her mascara-stained cheeks. The black stains smeared under his thumb, leaving her looking like a ragged mess but, in Erik's eyes, she was the pinnacle of beauty. No more Christine, no more of her chocolate brown eyes that deceived him. He knew her life with that _man_ was who she wanted and Erik accepted that once Nathalie came into his life.

Her bright blue eyes and raven black hair were only a thing a madman would create, something out of a Shakespeare play. She was submissive yet, she fought in the time of danger. She needed to fight now, she needed to hold on.

"Please hold on, please..." Erik cried out, choking on his tears and finally giving in as it took him in it's depressing hold.

Nathalie screamed again, hearing Erik's voice sound through her ears and realizing she'll never grow old with him. She'll never see their child be born; she knew her child was dying. Her body arched upwards, another deafening scream filling the auditorium. "I don't want to die!" She screamed over and over, her dress soaking up the slow-flowing blood. The lace corset filled with the liquid, soaking it up sweetly as it spread evenly through-out the dress.

Nathalie's fingers traveled into her chest, feeling the warm blade and the separation of skin. She pressed into the skin, feeling it's split and the thin muscle. As she pulled against the skin, Erik's hands grabbed hers, taking them away from the wound.

"I want it out! I don't care!"

"You don't care if you die on me?" Erik screamed back, his tears having fallen on her face.

Nathalie looked up into his eyes, her screams having stopped. The pain having ceased for only a short moment, she grabbed his face, pulling him down to her.

As their lips connected, Erik broke down, his lips parting to let out the angry and heart-breaking sobs. His fingers ran through her hair, taking out all the bobby pins and pulling the hair free of all restraints. As her hair fell down completely, she looked as beautiful as she did the first time ever saw her.

That sweet little girl and those gorgeous blue eyes in the middle of the snow-ridden night. Her remembered her and the night he saved her, catching her from falling as he held her in his arms, her face red from the Absinthe she flooded her body with.

"Don't leave me," Erik choked out, his tears falling on her face.

"I'll never..." blood began to pour out to of her mouth slowly, interrupting her. As she swallowed the thick liquid, her eyes watered, feeling the large lump go down her throat. "I'll never leave you," she breathed out, her breaths staggered as she brought her hand to his face.

His lips took hers once again; the taste of blood sweeping over his tongue like wildfire. His tears mixed in with hers as his lips moved passionately around in what could be their last and most real kiss they would ever share.

The sound of metal clanking on the floor brought Erik up and out of the kiss, looking down as the knife had disappeared from her chest and reappeared in her hand to her side.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, shivering as her heart started beating ferociously, the blood pulsing out of the large wound in her chest. As the blood fell down her gown, the red began showing on the white lace, making a small puddle where it could travel down no more and the material took it in like a dry sponge breathing in the water it so desperately needed.

"No, no!" Erik shouted, his hand pressing hard onto her chest, pushing as hard as he could to keep the blood in. "You promised you'll never leave me!" He shouted at her again, the blood traveling up his hand and staining the end of his white shirt. As he shook his head, her hand caressed his smooth features, tracing the wrinkles in his forehead as he stared at his hand and the blood covering it.

She was motionless.

She was cold.

He stopped breathing. His eyes frantically moving back and forth between her face as her lifeless eyes gazed into the dark rafters of the opera house.

His bloody hand left her chest, slowly moving towards her face. As his finger touched her chin, the blood coated her soft flesh, his screaming ensued. He ran his hand towards her cheek, blood smeared perfectly in the mascara that coated her cheeks.

As his screams filled the auditorium, the police ran in, the rifles held close to their bodies. The Commander held his arm high, stopping them from continuing on as a small fire raged on in the orchestra pit, catching fire to all sheet music and the wooden chairs. The old man commanding them looked up onto the stage, his dull gray eyes watching as the man sobbed and screamed on stage, holding the body of a woman. With his back facing the squad of police, the Commander motioned for his men to leave and let the man cry. The report of a large man killing another young man wasn't the one on stage, they let him be before they were to question him.

Erik listened intently as they left, hearing the doors close as he pulled Nathalie's dead body into his arms. With every ounce of strength he had left, he ran. He didn't care where he ran, but he needed to run from those men. As he pushed through the curtains of the stage, careful as to not hit Nathalie's head on anything, he burst through the backdoor, his feet crunching heavily in the snow.

…

"_Stay low, soft dark and dreamless_

_Far beneath my nightmares and loneliness._

_I hate me for not breathing without you_

_I don't want to feel anymore for you._

_Grieving you, I'm not grieving for you_

_Nothing real love can't undo._

_And though I may have lost my way_

_All paths lead straight to you._

_I long to be like you._

_Lie cold in the ground like you,_" he sang softly, his eyes only on the freshly upturned earth with the large marble headstone as the only marker as to where she lay.

He held himself high, his tuxedo coat lying in the cold grass somewhere near a tree. His vest was unbuttoned, his white shirt falling out of his black trousers as he stood calmly, the full moon lighting up the dark cemetery he stood quietly in.

"I miss you, Nathalie," he whispered, a single tear dropping from his thick eyelashes. He read the headstone, the headstone he bought for her.

A small sparrow was carved into the side as another sparrow was carved on the other side below it, it's wing and feathers destroyed as to his request. The eye of the second sparrow was gone, showing the deformity only he could understand. A picture of her was framed elegantly in the middle of the top, her name under it. 'Nathalie André Destler'. Another tear fell and he wiped it off with a swift motion of his gloved hand.

"_Say you'll love me every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you'll need me with you now and always..._" Erik sang, his eyes watering with the memory of Chrstine singing and confessing her love to Raoul.

"_Promise me that all you say is true..._" His head snapped up, swearing Nathalie's voice whispered in his ear.

"_Love me, that's all I ask of you..._" He sang along with Nathalie's ghostly voice, his eyes closing as he pictured the two of them standing together, their fingers intertwined as they sang, their lips inches apart.

As he turned to leave, a light wind began to blow, the trees lightly swaying in the wind. A soft thud sounded and Erik turned, looking at the ground. A large red apple fell from the tree above yet, no other apples were hanging from it's branches. As he bent down to grab the apple, he looked towards her grave, catching a glimpse of something that stopped his heart.

There she sat, a little boy in her arms as they smiled at him. A soft ethereal glow outlined their figures. She held him as he smiled, his short arms reaching out for him. Erik stood up, the apple in his grasp. He softly walked towards them, as if some sudden noise would scare them off.

Her blue eyes met his and with a warm smile, she mouthed, 'I love you'. She looked away only for a second, the young boy in her arms jumping as Erik neared them, his heart pounding faster and faster in his chest.

The little boy smiled, his green eyes speckled with blue as he looked at Erik, a muted laugh coming from his pink lips. His black hair was tossed to the side and his white shirt buttoned almost to the top.

Erik was almost there. "Please don't leave," he whispered, his free hand reaching out for the two.

Her blue eyes looked up at him, placing the boy on the ground and standing now, facing Erik fully as he was only inches from her.

"I thought you'd never come back," she whispered, her voice echoing in his ears as she smiled up at him.

"I thought you had left me for good." He said back, tears falling out of his eyes as her hands took his face. Her touch felt as if she had never left; her warm hands proving to Erik that she was still here.

"Daddy!" A small voice shouted, shaking the attention away from the two standing.

Erik looked down as the boy reached up, his hands opening and closing as he signaled for him to take him. Erik looked to Nathalie, her soft smile and a nod assuring him it was okay. As he knelt down to pick the boy up, everything in Erik's life stopped. He smiled, his life felt complete. The boy wrapped his arms around his neck and Erik gasped. The child who just called him 'Daddy' was holding him. Erik hugged the boy back, his tears soaking the child's white shirt.

Nathalie placed her hand on his shoulder and Erik looked up, her eyes smiling up at him. Erik's arm wrapped around her, pulling her into a tight embrace as he held the boy.

"Did you get me that apple, Daddy?" The boy asked, Erik nodding as he held the large red apple up. The boy's face was one of delight, taking the apple and biting it with his small mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed the delicious fruit. "Thank you, Daddy!"

"You're welcome," Erik smiled back, looking as Nathalie rubbed the child's back.

"I've missed you," Nathalie said as her gaze turned towards Erik's, their eyes locking onto one another.

"You don't know how long I've missed you." He replied back. "Five years has been too long." He kissed her forehead, his eyes closing as she sighed against his chest.

"I never got to tell you that I loved you," she whispered as his lips kept kissing her forehead, taking her sadness away.

"You didn't need to; I've known it all along." Erik began to cry as Nathalie looked up into his eyes, taking his lips in hers.

As their tongues danced to their own private tune they knew so well, they began to fade. Erik's lips never letting go of her's as she wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him close to her, never parting with him, no matter the price.

"I'll never let go," she whispered as she broke the kiss.

"I know,"

…

They laughed together as they listened to their friend's dirty joke, taking their morning route in the cemetery. The two old men smiled as they each bounced a joke off each other, laughing out loud as they stepped around the headstones of the cemetery.

"Oy, mate, d'you remember that lass I saw last night?" The tall one asked in his Irish accent.

"I do, go on." Replied the other as his pockets shoved deep into his pants.

"Well, that bonny lass there got me so hard, I-" the two stopped, their attention on the sight before them.

In the dense fog of that Spring morning, a cold and stiff body lay. His tuxedo coat in the cold grass in front of their feet next to the tree as they turned the corner of the new headstone just put in.

As they neared closer and the fog dispersing just a tad, a man lay against the headstone, his back towards them as they neared, his white shirt soaked in the new morning dew. His black vest was unbuttoned and his arm he lay on was under his head as his other arm fell in front of his stomach. His legs had a slight curl to them as he lay on the upturned earth.

The man on the left walked over, his hand grabbing the man's arm. "Mate, are ya there?" he asked, shaking the stiff body.

A mask covered the right side of his face, his tanned skin pale.

"Looks dead, Herman."

The man knelt down nodded, looking around the body until he found something red. As he picked it up, a small bite lay in it's side, the inside of the apple now brown from being exposed in the air.

"Poor fellow; must've died from a heart attack." The second man said as he fiddled with the grass with his shoe.

The first man shook his head. "No, it must've been from a broken heart."

Little did they know, his heart was healed, unbroken. His death was a sweet one and he would never would change it. A love tried and true, broken once by a death inevitable. Erik Destler felt no pain as he went away, his soul with his one true love and their child as they were once again reunited, healing a broken heart.

"_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

_Share each day with me, each night, each morning._

_Say you love me, you know I do._

_Love me, that's all I ask of you..._" Their voices silently sounded through the cemetery, living on.

THE END.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Will anyone else tell me they cried? Oh, my gosh, I was just balling as I was writing, my fiancee' ran out and held me, asking me what was wrong. As soon as I told him, he just sighed and walked away, going back to sleep. Lmao! Perfect.

"Like You" by Evanescence and "All I Ask Of You" by Andrew Lloyd Webber. PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME IF YOU CRIED ALSO! TELL ME IF YOU LOVED IT OR HATED IT! THANK YOU ALL ONCE AGAIN. MY CAPS BUTTON IS BROKEN, LOL.  
>-Laania<p> 


	10. Author's Request

_**ATTENTION ALL! **_

_Just wanted to ask a question to all the great readers and writers out there about this story! Should there be a sequel or should there be a prequel? GASP! Well, we can't do much with a sequel since, well, they died. =( BUT! Never fear! Will Klaudios' ghost haunt them for eternity? Dun dun dun!_

_Ha ha, that's so stupid. I'm a dork._

_But no, I'd like to do a prequel, a story before Nathalie and Erik saw each other once more and talk about the infamous eighteen year gap. It will be in Nathalie's point of view most of the time, just like Healing a Broken Heart but, like Erik had said, he had been watching her for eighteen years. There will be the same amount of chapters that Nathalie has that Erik will have. Let me know so my creative juices can get flowing right back again; I already have some amazing chapters already lined up but, I want your approval first._

_Thanks a lot, ya'll!_

_Laania_

_P.S. I want to thank everyone who read this and I couldn't be happier than to write another great story for you. You've made it possible for me to die happy. - So melodramatic, ha ha!_


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